The Lilymaid
by Freya Thorine
Summary: "I could hide you in these mountains," he whispered in her ear. "Then hide me," Lily breathed, closing her eyes and snuggling into his shoulder. "Never let me go." In a sequel to "The Sword and his Flowers," Lily of Noonvale embarks on her own tale of adventure in the far off Kingdom of Eutrusia where she learns love is not blind and courage is found within. COVER ART BY LADY STORM
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Yes, I deleted the first version of this story because I was no longer going to pursue it, and then I realized it would be an injustice to the characters not to finish it, so I've begun it again. Some tales just deserve to be told.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or places referenced from the _Redwall_ series - they belong to Brian Jacques. However, all original characters, places and adventures belong to me. :)**

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**Prologue**

One footpaw in front of the other, the two mice walked wearily down the side of the stream bed, following its current south. Despite the chill to the late spring air and the patches of fog lingering around the bottoms of trees and rocks, both father and son had shed their cloaks and leg wrappings, donning only their shirts and dark tartan kilts as they slumped under the weight of their packs and hope.

"How much farther do we have to go, Father?" the bridging adolescent inquired with exhaustion heavy in his tone, "I thought that owl said the place was not too far?"

"She said to follow the water, Jonas," his father replied and pawed the series of smithing hammers, the symbols of his trade, hanging from loops sewed onto his rucksack. "She didn't tell us how far we would be walking."

"Oh," Jonas breathed and adjusted the straps on his shoulders. "Can we stop for a bit?"

The elder glanced over his shoulder and sighed at the whittled figure of his son. The poor lad looked ready to drop in his tracks.

"No much longer now, Jonas," his father promised. "I can feel it. We're almost there."

Jonas nodded and strengthened his resolve, trudging forward in the footprints of his father. Hopefully, the owl had not led them astray and there really was a settlement not too far down the stream where they could find food and shelter. For three seasons they had wandered south from the high mountains and away from the fallen northern realm of Eustrus. It was time they found someplace to rest, if not stay for good.

"You smell that, Jonas?" his father asked and stopped to sniff the air. Giving a wink, he tipped his head south, "Fire."

Jonas tipped his nose up and breathed in the smoky scent of pine and birch – good wood for home fires. "That means we can't be far!" he exclaimed and trotted ahead. "C'mon, Father!"

"Jonas!" the smithmouse called him. "Jonas, get back here! You don't know where you're going!"

But youngster wasn't listening. Faster Jonas sprinted along the stream, keeping to the left when it forked east and south around an alder tree. Nimbly, he jumped over stones and dodged long, dangling branches, as he thundered into a groove of willow trees. Slowing to a walk, Jonas gaped about the fresh green leaves bedecking the trees, clear water bubbling in the brook and the buds of yellow and pink flowers freckling the new spring grasses; the place looked enchanted – like something out of a myth. In the distance he could hear birds chirping and smell of baking bread filled his nostrils. He was getting closer and as he rounded the bend and into another hollow, there he saw her.

She was lying on her stomach; her footpaws were flicking in the air above her, exposing her legs up to her knees where the mulberry skirts of her gown had fallen back. A light smile lit her face as she leaned on her elbow, humming an airy tune as she pulled a hunk of charcoal over a sheet of parchment. Butterflies fluttered around her peacefully and even the sun speckled her with warmth such as Jonas had never seen in all his fourteen seasons. Just looking at her made him feel as though all the cold from the north had melted away from his body with a single breath.

The maiden was so absorbed in her task, she didn't notice him at first and for a short time he just stood there watching her, assessing whether or not she was real. Slipping back into the shadows, Jonas pulled his excess tartan from his shoulder over the top of his head and continued to watch her in silence.

"No, no, Foremole Dinny won't be on the side of the garden," she muttered to herself, chuckling at seemingly her own mistake. "He was always _in_ the garden – between the beets and the carrots. Now, Uncle Gonff would be right by the potatoes… he always said the dirt was heavier there and better for makes mud clumps... and Lady Amber would be up one of the orchard trees picking apples –"

Jonas' stomach betrayed his silence and rumbled loudly at the mention of food. Even his mouth salivated at the idea of an apple fresh from the tree – did he even truly remember what that tasted like?

She stiffened at the sound, her ears perked straight up and her movements stilled. After a moment, she slowly rose to her footpaws and clutched her drawing to her chest, glancing around at the trees with large brown eyes.

"Who-Who's there?" she demanded, her voice quivering slightly. "I know somebeast is there – I-I heard you."

Jonas was about to walk forward when he felt his father's paw on his upper arm. Shaking his head, the elder signaled Jonas to stay before he stepped into the glen to confront the mousemaid.

"It's alright," he said softly, holding his arms open when she gave a little start. "I'm unarmed. Just a traveler from the Northlands looking for a place called Noonvale. Have you heard of it?"

The maiden lifted her chin slightly at the name. "What do you want with Noonvale?" she questioned with a hint of defense.

"An owl named Boldred told us of it," the smithmouse responded and waved Jonas forward from the trees. "We were set upon by a horde of riotous squirrels and she saved us from them. She told us to follow the river until we came to Noonvale – where we could rest and maybe find some food."

She continued to eye them suspiciously as Jonas drew up beside his father, blinking and tensing her body at the odds, but she did not back down – nor did she answer the question.

"You say an owl named _Boldred_ sent you?" she pressed and contorted her face in thought. "You're sure her name was _Bold-red?"_

"That's what she said her name was," Jonas responded kindly, gaining a stern look from his father. "Odd name really, but it is better than the one the squirrels were screeching. What did they call her again, Father? Cloud princess?"

"Skyqueen, I believe," the smith corrected with a shrug. "It was hard to understand them through their caterwauling, but I think they called her Skyqueen. Anyways, Boldred showed us the way through the mountain and told us to follow the river to Noonvale."

"Do you know the place?" Jonas questioned when she shifted on her footpaws and popped her eyebrows at the name 'Skyqueen.' "There's supposed to be a mouse there named Brome Voh we are to speak to."

"He is my uncle," the maiden said gently. Assured their intentions were genuine, her features softened into a smile. "Brome Voh is the Chieftain of Noonvale."

"He is?" Jessop grinned. "Could you take us to him?"

She nodded and turned to go through a break in the trees. "Did you say you were from the Northlands?"

"Yes."

Her eyes grew wide with wonderment, their deep brown hue dancing with excitement. "You must have been travelling for seasons! What an adventure it must have been."

Jonas made a face and shook his head. "Ugh. Adventure."

"You don't like going on adventures?" she gawped like the very notion of it was inconceivable.

"Not if I can avoid it," he shrugged.

"Lily?" a strong voice sounded from behind her and the three mice looked up to see two middle-aged mice saunter through the trees to stand slightly in front of the maiden. Both of them wore guarded expressions and thicker of the two had a slight limp, but he still crossed his paws over his broad chest in challenge.

"What do we have here?" he said in more a statement to his friend than question to the others. "Lost your way, lads?"

"Lis, Ratherwood!" Lily gasped and moved between the two pairs of males. Pointing to the travelers, she explained, "Boldred sent these two here to find Noonvale. They're travelers from the Northlands and, um," she paused for a moment and let out a light giggle. "I'm sorry," she said, turning back to the newcomers, "I didn't ask your names."

"My name is Jessop," replied the elder. "And this is my son, Jonas."

"Lily of Noonvale," the maiden replied with a little curtsy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Jessop, and you too, Jonas. These are friends of my family, Ratherwood," she added with a gesture to the dark furred mouse with gray eyes, "and Lis," she finished with a nod at the thick set mouse.

Jessop smiled approvingly at her manners and opened his mouth to speak when the gray-eyed mouse interrupted him.

"Lily, you run along home," he said, taking her by the shoulders and guiding her towards the subtle pathway. "Your mother has something she wants to tell you and your brother."

"But I –"

"Now, _mit flon,"_ Lis sniped over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the northerners. "And tell your uncle to expect company," he furthered in a softer tone.

The maiden obeyed without another questioned and trotted off through the budding trees. Jonas watched her until she vanished, letting a languid grin curl up his lips. He hadn't dealt much with females after his mother died and whenever he had, he usually felt fidgety and embarrassed; but he didn't feel that way around this one, this Lily of Noonvale. He felt comfortable around her and –

"Alright you two, Lily's not here," Ratherwood barked, breaking off Jonas' train of thought. "Drop your weapons."

Jonas' gaze flew up to his father; Jessop narrowed his eyes. "We aren't carrying any weapons," the smithmouse retorted.

"Travelling all the way from the Northlands without a weapon?" Lis scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Try your lies on some other beasts. Drop the blades."

"We don't have any."

"I wouldn't test us, Jessop," Ratherwood warned.

"I'm not. We have no weapons of any kind amongst us," Jessop stressed and turned in a circle with his arms stretched wide to prove his point. "All I have are my hammers."

"A tradebeast are you?" Lis questioned, raising an eyebrow at the tools hanging from the elder's pack.

"I was once the Mastersmith of Eustrus," Jessop said proudly, "The great Kingdom of the North."

"Uh-huh," Lis drawled out. "And I was once the son of the greatest lord in the south." The two northerners snorted back a laugh at the assumed jest; Lis only eyed them more sternly. "Still doesn't mean I never traveled without a sword at my side. Titles mean nothing in terms of safety when you're travelling. So, like my friend said – Drop. Your. Weapons." Punctuating each word of his last statement with a crook of his foreclaw towards the ground.

"We don't have _any_ weapons," Jessop affirmed again. "We are peaceful creatures. We don't believe in violence or killing or…"

"You don't believe in violence and yet you claim to be a smith?" Ratherwood guffawed. "Did you forget what you forge, Oh Great Mastersmith? Did you forget the weapons you've made? The blades you've sharpened?"

"I forget nothing that I have made," the smith snapped, fury in his eyes. "I do _not_ forge _weapons."_

Jonas shifted nervously in the uncomfortable silence that fell between the two mice and his father as they glared at one another across the glen. His father was telling the truth – they bore no weapons of any kind and even during their confrontation with the feral squirrels his father had opted to run rather than fight with whatever they could find. Surely, the two males could see they weren't lying?

"Fine," Lis yapped and threw a paw to the air. "Rath, let's get them to Noonvale. The lassie was making us lunch and I'll be damned if I'm going to eat it cold thanks to this pair of _smithmice."_

"Alright," Ratherwood relented and took up the lead, waving Jessop and Jonas to follow him down the path. "You two look like you could use a bath and something to eat anyways."

"Aye, and a change of clothes," Lis snickered from the rear. "Then you can give those _skirts_ back to whichever maids you stole them from!"

"They're kilts, not skirts," Jessop grumbled and pawed at the green and black plaid slung over his left shoulder. In his mind the memories of his old home flashed across his thoughts. Tall mountains, deep lochs, ice, fire… chains, whips, teeth, claws… the smell of iron and blood, roasting bodies, hanging pelts… screams, pleas, tears…

"But we would be thankful of some clean wares," he stated and sighed the images away forever. That life was behind them now. He had gotten himself and his son away. It was time he let all of it go.

They didn't walk far before Ratherwood paused at the edge of a hill and motioned them forward to look out over a peaceful village snuggled in the dip of a low valley. All around it trees encircled the ridge and a waterfall from the river spilled down into a pool near the settlement's center. Running along the southern border of the valley, the meandering stream widened and twinkled blue beneath the series of small fishing boats.

"Ah, here we are," Lis announced as he stiffly ambled up beside pair of gawking travelers. Giving a sniff to the air, he cocked his head in thought. "Leeks… sage… roasted chestnuts… mmm, cheddar scones…"

Jonas just gave the mouse an incredulous look. Was he actually listing ingredients from the scents in the air?

"Well, Jessop, Jonas," Ratherwood proclaimed with a swing of his arm out over the valley's façade. "Welcome to Noonvale."

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**Alright, so already you will notice the beginning is a little different, since I gave it a prologue. I will be posting a chapter once a week for this story, so look back every Wednesday for an update. **

**Oh, and please feel free to review! **


	2. Chapter 1

**Thanks to MrDill, Lady Storm and Shadowed One 19 for reviewing.**

**Yah, I know I said I'd only post on Wednesdays, but let's speed things up shall we? ;)**

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**Chapter 1**

"Buzz buzz buzz, all the bees are a buzz,  
And the flowers in trees  
Will bring me fruit as I please!  
Eating fruit from the 'vale,  
Will make me hearty and hale…"

The little mousemaid sang as she skipped down the path from the orchards of Noonvale. In one paw she held onto her long blue dress skirts, while in the other a basket filled with strawberries dangled from her paw. Although she was just a mouselet of six seasons, the little maid had insisted that she wear gowns like her mother and sister, protesting that short dresses were not for her. The breeze lifted her light coloured headfur from where it waved loose down her back and she shook her head when it blew into her piercing blue eyes. Coming round the bend, the maiden spied her sister sitting ahead sitting atop a rock with small folio set between her paws; with a bolt of laughter, the little maid smiled and happily called her name.

"Lily-Lil!" she cried, dropping her dress skirts and lifting the basket with both paws above her head. "Grumm and me found strawberries!"

Lily looked up from her pages and grinned as her sister walked briskly towards her.

"Perfect!" Lily laughed, gently closing the tome and placing it carefully in the satchel slung across her body. "Should we take them home for Mama?"

"Yes!" the young one replied. "Grumm wants Mama to make a flan!"

"You mean _you_ want Mama to make a flan!" Lily teased her and looked into the basket filled to the brim with berries. "Did you pick some for every beast?"

"Uh-huh," the maiden replied. "I even picked the white ones for Rathy!"

"Oh, Marcey!" Lily sighed at her. "The white ones aren't ripe!"

"Then why does Rathy eat them?" Marcey said scrunching her dainty nose in confusion.

"So they don't have a chance to ripen enough for Lis to eat!" Lily chuckled at the idea of the two fighters always trying to outdo the other even in their aging state. Sliding off the stone, Lily motioned for Marcey to pick up her skirts again so they could continue walking. "Marcey, where is Matty? I thought he was with you?"

"He went to help 'Detty with something," Marcey said matter-of-factly and made a big shrug with her shoulders. "Lily-Lil, will you race me home?" she asked when they reached the top of the hill.

"Marcey, you have a basket full of fruit!" Lily reminded her. "Aren't you afraid you will spill?"

"But… Mama!" Marcey exclaimed and waved her tiny paw in the air at the sight of their mother tending to a patch of flowers by the entrance to their little cottage at the bottom of the hill. The beautiful mousemaid turned at the sound of her daughter's voice and waved back, as did the two aging mice sitting on a bench outside the cottage.

"I got strawberries!" Marcey yelled and hoisted the basket aloft in her paws once more. Breaking into a run she sprinted down the hill. "Lots of berries!" she shouted, gaining speed with every step, "Enough for everybeast –" But her footpaws could not keep up with the speed of her descent and the maiden tripped, rolling head over tail down the remainder of the slope. To her horror, the basket rolled with her and hundreds of little red berries littered the ground.

"Marcey!" Her mother called out as she dropped her trowel and trotted over to the little maid. "Marcey, are you alright?"

"Mama, I spilt!" Marcey cried, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. Throwing herself into her mother's arms, she sobbed, _"My strawberries!"_

"Oh, Marcey, you silly little maid," Lily exhaled when she reached the scene. "I told you, you might spill if you ran," she said, turning the basket upright and picking up the berries that were not squished.

"I'm not silly!" Marcey protested through her tears. "Mama, tell Lily-Lil I'm not silly!"

"Oh, you two," the mousewife reproached them.

"Now Marcena, there's no crying over spilt mil – erm, strawberries," a kindly mouse with twinkling gray eyes smirked as he left his friend on the bench and came over to help gather up the scattered fruit. "Is there, Rose?" he added with a wink to the maidens' mother.

"But I picked them for Mama to make a flan!" Marcey grumped and wiped her eyes dry with her sleeves. "I even picked the white ones for you, Rathy."

"I see that," the mouse snickered and pick up a white berry, turning back to his sitting friend and rolling the fruit in his fingers mockingly at him before popping it in his mouth.

"Oh, yeah, sure, bring the able bodied beast what he wants," the mouse on the bench jested loudly and jabbed at the air between them with his walking stick. "What about my berries, tiny lassie?"

"They aren't ripe enough yet!" Marcey huffed as she started to help with the clean-up.

"Oh, that's enough, all of you!" Rose laughed and rose to her footpaws with the basket salvaged fruit. "I should still have enough to make something out of them. Perhaps a strawberry and walnut salad with some soft cheese – how would you like that, Marcey?"

"As long as there is enough for every beast," Marcey sighed and flapped her arms against her sides like a fledgling bird that failed an attempt at flight.

"There will be," Rose chuckled and led her daughters towards the cottage, stopping at the door and holding up her paws to the two males. "Oh, no – you two have to stay here until lunch is ready!"

"Why, lassie?" the seated mouse asked. "Ratherwood and I are great at taste testing –"

"Yes, and so is Matthias!" Rose laughed. "And I don't have enough strawberries here for all three of you to taste test, Lis!"

"Ah, the young laddie-buck is still out adventuring," Lis scoffed. "It would just be the philosopher and I."

"No, you two need to go find him," Rose said pointing towards the waterfall pool. "It's almost time for lunch and as usual, he's nowhere to be found!"

"And if he misses it, the more for us," Ratherwood jested and winked at Lis.

"No!" Rose commanded. "Really, you two – go find Matty. Wherever he is…"

"Ah, he'll be with Adette somewhere," Ratherwood said, chuckling and holding up his paws defensively when Rose gave him a warning glance. "I'm just saying it's a safe bet…"

"Indeed," Rose mused and sighed at the thought of her son being old enough to have developed a love interest. "He'll come home quick enough when he knows there's food," she affirmed with a curt nod.

"That lad is just a sucker for a pair of pretty eyes," Lis piped as he leaned back further in his bench and rubbed his aching knees. Giving Rose a smirk, he added, "I wonder where he gets that from?"

Rose just huffed in exasperation and threw her paws to the sky, closing the door on the two laughing mice.

"Come on, Lis," Ratherwood said, clasping his friend tightly on the arm and helping him to his footpaws. "Let's go after another tail chaser!"

"If it wasn't one it's the other!" Lis chortled and walked forward gamely with his cane. "Though I tell you, if we catch them kissing again, I'm going to whack him so hard with this stick you'll have to find me another one!"

* * *

"Now, keep these clay packs on this time, Lis," Brome admonished him as the retired fighter sat on a bench in the healer's chamber of Council Lodge while the chieftain fitted the bandages on Lis' swollen knees. "And no walking unless you have to; let alone sprinting down a hill!"

"I was chasing a bird," Lis grumbled and shot a warning glare at the swaggering adolescent mouse standing beside Ratherwood, dripping water on the floor from his sodden clothes and trying to holding in his laughter. "One that's going to get his feathers plucked as soon as I'm better."

Brome looked over his shoulder and gave his nephew a displeased expression. "Chasing a bird, was it?" he said, turning back to his administrations. "Well, apparently, birds in Noonvale need to learn how to use their time more wisely. Wouldn't you say so, Matthias?"

"Nope," the mouse chirped. "Birds around here like to fly high and free –"

"It wasn't really a question, Matthias," Brome said briskly. Tying off the last bandage, the chieftain rose to his footpaws. "Starting tomorrow, you will be helping Jessop and his son with the roof repairs to Council Lodge."

"Wh-What?" Matthias stuttered, his hazel eyes growing large in disbelief and his mouth went slightly agape.

Brome paused from his clean-up for a brief second. "You heard me."

"Why?" Matthias snapped. Striding over to his uncle, Matthias leaned on the table by the cabinet and tried to reason with the chieftain. "Uncle Brome, please – the last place I need to be is up on some roof hammering metal."

"Birds fly don't they?" Brome breathed out, his tone still unimpressed as he continued to put away his supplies. "Perhaps your wings would be better employed doing _something_ rather than flapping aimlessly."

"They aren't flapping aimless," Matthias muttered and pushed himself upright again. Brome stared at the small puddle of water pooled on the tabletop before wiping it dry with towel.

"I would hardly call _kissing_ a maiden in the woods and then _stealing_ the cane of your discoverers so they can't run after you meaningful application."

"But that's where you're wrong, uncle," Matthias countered cheekily. "They can still run… and half drown you, too."

Behind him, Matthias heard the two fighters snigger at one another and the soft clap of their palms meeting one another in congratulatory repute.

"A minor punishment for theft, I'm sure," Brome said absentmindedly. "Ratherwood, tell me again – in Southsward, do you lose one paw or two when you steal?"

Matthias exhaled loudly and slumped his drenched bottom on a chair with an embellished thump. "Here you go exaggerating everything, _again."_

"Matthias, do you think this is a joke?" Brome flared at him. "Your recklessness caused another beast bodily harm. Sure, it's not cut with an axe or slice of a sword, but injury is injury, no matter the method or cause!"

"But I –"

"Enough." Brome pelted the table with his paw. "I've been lenient on you for too long…"

"You've never been lenient on me!" Matthias argued and jumped to his footpaws, twisting away when Ratherwood tried to lay a paw on his arm. "You've always been hard on me, telling me what to do and how to act. Always giving me extra chores and watching every move I make."

"Somebeast has to," Brome seethed. "Somebeast has to rein you in."

"Stop telling me what to do," the young mouse shouted. "You aren't my father!"

"Thank the Seasons for that!" Brome yelled, his words immediately silencing the room. "He would be disappointed in the unruly creature you've become."

Seeing the stunned and disapproving looks on the other three's faces, Brome shoved the final objects into the cupboard and slammed the door. "I will let the smiths know you will be joining them at dawn. Hopefully after a few days of honest work, you will appreciate the feeling of freedom."

"But I have defensive training with Pneius and the others at dawn," Matthias said between his clenched teeth.

"I guess you will be missing a few sessions," Brome put in and strode past his nephew. "I will inform Pneius of your absence as well."

"Fine," Matthias snarled and crossed his arms as Brome walked out of the chamber and exited the lodge.

Matthias remained standing for the span of three breaths, his shoulders thickening with tension, before exhaling all his stress and collapsing down on the bench beside Lis. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his thighs and took long, calming breaths.

"He _isn't_ disappointed in you, Matty," Lis said softly and put a paw on the youngster's shoulder. Bending down in attempt to look him in the eye, Lis added, "Your father is proud of you."

Matthias shook his head. "How can you say he would be proud, when my uncle despises me so much?"

"Your uncle doesn't despise you, Matthias," Ratherwood sighed and sat down beside him. "He's frustrated with you. There's a difference."

"Brome is trying to raise you to be a creature of Noonvale," Ratherwood continued. "Your father – well – he would have raised you to be a different sort of mouse; the one that you are still becoming despite your uncle's interferences."

"Then maybe he should just stop interfering," Matthias sniped and clenched his paws. "Ugh, I don't want to fix the roof."

"And I didn't want to chase your ruddy tail either, laddie-buck, but I did!" Lis snarked and gave the back of his head a shove, gaining a little laugh and a smile. Reaching down, he started undoing the bandages holding the clay packs on. "Nothing wrong with doing something you don't want to. Makes you disciplined, and discipline is the mark of a warrior in training."

Matthias smiled at that. "Then why did you chase me?" Matthias asked, taking the compress from Lis and putting it on the table. "We weren't doing anything wrong!"

"Ah, Matty, you're still a young mouse," Ratherwood said while he opened the cabinet and looked through Brome's salve collection. Finding one small jar near the back, he opened it for a sniff, immediately wrinkling his nose and closing the lid to conceal away the strong smell of camphor. "You don't know what is wrong yet!" he furthered and tossed the ointment to Lis.

"A kiss is nothing wrong," Matthias pointed out.

"Oh really?" Lis chuckled, soothing the rancid smelling cream on his swollen joints. "Laddie-buck, it all starts with a kiss!"

"Huh?" Matthias said crinkling his snout against the strong scent as he blinked away water brimming his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well, how do you think you came about?" Lis snickered and lobbed the jar back at Ratherwood to replace on the shelf.

"I… uh… oh," Matthias stuttered, turning red from ear to tail tip. "We weren't going to do that!"

"We know that Matty," Ratherwood joked with him. "You're only sixteen seasons old –" He stopped when Lis cleared his throat in attempt to hide a laugh.

_"Only sixteen?"_ he simpered. "Ratherwood, do you remember yourself at sixteen? Do you remember me?"

If looks could kill, Lis would have dropped dead. All the same, Matthias smirked at his two surrogate fathers.

"Like I was saying, Matthias," Ratherwood restated, still glaring at his friend, "You're only sixteen. Be honourable and take things slow."

"The Worry-wood has a point, lad," Lis grinned and clapped Matthias on the back. "You'll have enough time for the fun stuff later in life –"

"AHEM!"

" – when you're _married,"_ Lis continued with an eye roll. "For now, laddie-buck, keep your kisses to her paws. Just like young Jonas does to your sister."

"He had better not!" Matthias said sternly and stomped up to his footpaws. "Jonas had better not be _kissing_ Lily's paw – or anywhere else!"

"But why not, Matty?" Lis gawked in mock astonishment. "You said there was nothing wrong with a kiss."

"There is when it's my sister!"

"Bit of a double standard, lad."

"I'll throw him off the top beam tomorrow," Matthias grumbled, spinning on his heel and storming from the lodge. "I'll nail his lips to the roof…"

"Grew to be the protective type, didn't he?" Lis laughed when Matthias was out of sight. "Seasons help the mice the little and tiny lassies do end up marrying!"

"Yes, spending some time with Jessop and Jonas will be good for him," Ratherwood pondered as he hauled Lis up to his footpaws again. "He might as well learn to like his future family."

"So," Lis said, stretching his paws up to the ceiling in attempt to hide his grimace. "Jonas stuck his tail out, did he?"

"Not that Rose has said anything," Ratherwood confessed. "But I don't think its long coming."

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**If you read it, please review it!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks to MrDill and minkspit for their reviews of the last chapter!**

**Now, on to the next installment!**

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**Chapter 2**

It was well after midday by the time Lily started making her way up the western hill of the valley towards the hidden willow grove. She walked briskly along, pausing only to talk to those beasts not appeased by a wave and after engaging in brief conversation she would make her goodbyes to continue on her way again. The closer she drew to her seclusion, the softer her smile and eyes became while the wheels turned her mind; afternoons were her sketching time and already figments were popping from her imagination in chance they might materialize on a page. Luckily, not many creatures where lingering about the upper pathways and she made her journey with only a few interruptions.

Pushing her way between a pair of overgrown heather bushes, Lily ducked under a series of low-slung elm boughs before weaving through the lissom fingers of the willows branches. Yet for all the grove's natural defenses, she was not alone. Lily heard him before she saw him; his pleasant baritone playing on the bars of the light spring breeze in the glade:

"So sharpen your axe,  
And then heat up the flames,  
Roll the sword till its smooth!  
Leave no edge left untouched,  
Don't weigh done too much,  
You'll need to make sure you can move!"

"Mama will never forgive Lis for teaching you that song," Lily chided as she rustled her way through the wheat grass to where her brother was lying on his back in the center of the small meadow. Matthias tipped his head back to see her approach, grinning broadly before laughing and returning his gaze upwards again.

"Well, I couldn't hum lullabies my whole life," he simpered and shuffled over when Lily laid down on her back beside him. Placing his paws behind his head, Matthias watched the white tufts of clouds float peacefully through the blue sky above them. "I'm not a babe anymore."

"No, you're not," Lily sighed and pulled her satchel strap around so the bag sat on her stomach. "You didn't come home for lunch. Marcey was still waiting at the table for you when I left."

"I'm not hungry."

"Liar," she smirked, taking an apple from her pack and placing it on his chest. "I give you less than minute before that's eaten."

"Not fair," Matthias complained and snatched up the fruit before it could roll off. Sitting up, he gave Lily a short shrug and bit into the apple's flesh. "You can't put food in front of me and then expect me _not_ to eat it."

"Well, enjoy it," she affirmed. "That's the last of the stored apples. You won't get any now until fall again."

"Consider it enjoyed."

Lily just grinned at him while he snickered and continued to munch away. Had it not been for Rose's hazel eyes, Matthias would have passed for Martin's twin with their same reddish-brown fur colouring and broad shoulders. Already at sixteen, Matthias displayed the famous warriormouse's promise of height, but it was his smile that drove their closest similarity for her – and his booming laughter. No matter who was around, when Matthias laughed everybeast smiled; the same way they did when Marcena let out her own round of giggles.

"You're a walking gut," she snorted and rolled her eyes. "It's a wonder we have anything left to eat in the cottage with you and Lis around."

"I always leave something," Matthias defended and then gave her a coy look when Lily raised an eyebrow, "For a midnight snack."

"Uh-huh." Lily took a deep breath and relaxed into the grasses, letting the scents of spring clear her mind. "What are you doing up here anyway?"

"Avoiding creatures," he confessed, ceasing his chewing with a large gulp.

"You mean avoiding Uncle Brome," she deduced and sat up when he made a face. Fixing her tawny skirts around her legs, Lily gave him a sympathetic look as she recalled Brome coming to their cottage as they sat down to eat; quickly, he had told Rose about Matthias' newest _tryst_ and that he was being punished. Although her mother looked unimpressed, it was all she could do not to laugh when Marcey had scrunched up her nose and asked why Matty would want to kiss a maid that wasn't his Mama or sisters.

"He's worse than a tyrant," Matthias grumbled and took another angry bit from his apple. "He just has to run to Mama every time I do something I'm not supposed to… and he calls _me_ the child!" Pieces of apple and juice spat from his mouth in his exclamation, causing Lily to giggle as she pretended to wipe spittle from her face. "Sorry, Lil."

"It's okay, Matty," she said. "And stop being dramatic - Uncle Brome is only looking out for you."

"He's interfering. Why does he have to bug his snout in everything?"

"Because he is our uncle _and_ our village chieftain," Lily pointed out matter-of-factly.

"I know, but… ugh, Lil, I know how to live my own life!" Matthias said in exasperation. "I do anything that is not _Noonvalish_ and he scolds me like I'm still a mouselet!"

"Why don't you just stop giving him a reason to then," Lily said plainly. "Why do you keep getting in trouble?"

"I'm trying not to," Matthias groaned. "Believe me, it's not like I go looking for trouble –" again he paused as she flipped her head back in disbelief. " – all the time," he corrected. Tossing his apple core into the trees, Matthias brought his knees up to his chest and hugged his legs. "I didn't think kissing a maid was that wrong."

"Kissing a maid?" Lily teased, fully knowing the circumstances, but wanting to joke with him a little bit. "Who did you kiss?"

"Adette," Matthias shrugged like it was nothing important. "I asked her first – she said I could."

"Oh, my little brother is in love!"

His features aghast, Matthias let out a violent shiver at the idea. Unlike his sister, he was not keen on the idea of expressing an emotion that in his experience caused creatures nothing sadness. To Matthias, love meant his mother's nightly tears, Lily's whispered stories of what they're life would have been like and the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw a Noonvale father praise his son for some achievement. He had not felt the constant comfort it could give as Lily had; watch it heal pain before him, or seen with his own eyes what feats creatures could perform to defend it. To him, it was more of a curse than a blessing and although he loved his family, he had little interest in opening up his heart to one outside their tight-knit circle.

"I am _not_ in love, Lily."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Oh, I will," he confirmed. "Every beast needs to just simmer down. It was only a kiss!"

"Maybe it isn't the kiss everybeast is mad about, Matty," Lily put in. "Maybe it is the fact you caused another creature pain."

"I don't think Adette was in pain," Matthias said with a cocky smile. He knew Adette had enjoyed his kiss; she had practically melted into him when their lips touched.

"I wasn't talking about Adette," Lily said crossly and threw a pawful of grass at her brother to wipe the smudge look off his face. "You know you can't make Lis run like that. He can barely walk and is too stubborn to stop!"

"Not you, too!" Matthias snapped now that her tone had changed from the teasing sister to the motherly chide; a tone she was starting to take on more and more as the seasons progressed. "Lil, please; I can't listen to anymore beasts telling what I shouldn't be doing!"

"Then start doing things you're supposed to!" Lily countered boldly.

"Right, and live in this cage." Matthias scowled and got to his footpaws, gesturing around the glen. "It's as bad as a prison."

To that, Lily didn't respond. Inside she felt the same way and even glancing around the trees, she watched the willow branches transform into iron bars before her eyes. With a deep sigh, Lily mumbled, "Sometimes a prison is the safest place to be. No beast can get hurt if others can't get in."

"What was that, Lil?"

"Nothing, Matthias," she said and waved her paw in the air to dismiss the question. "Just lay low until Uncle Brome cools off a bit."

"You mean, lay _high,"_ Matthias moaned and kicked at the grasses. "I have to help the smiths with Council Lodge's roof repair."

"With Jonas?" Lily asked quickly and flushed when Matthias glared at her ready response.

"Hmm," the budding warrior mused and narrowed his eyes. "Apparently, I hear I'm not the only mouse who's been _kissing_ around Noonvale." Lily's blush deepened. "Have any idea who that may be, Lil?"

"That's nothing for you to worry about."

"A-ha!" Matthias laughed and clapped his paws. "Hypocrite. Tell me to behave when you're out puckering up to a cloud of soot."

"I am not a hypocrite," Lily replied and stomped up to her feet. Adjusting her satchel across her body, she motioned to the pathway. "Feel free to leave any time now."

"Why? Need time to fantasize about your beloved _Jonas?"_

"Oh, Matthias, you're impossible, do you know that?" Lily exclaimed and walked over to a group of rocks. With her paw, Lily brushed off the stone and settled herself down on the makeshift seat, opening her sack and pulling out a leather folio and stick of charcoal. "I do not need to fantasize about Jonas, but you are impeding on my drawing time."

"Good, because I don't like him."

"Why?" Lily gaped before she could stop herself. "There's nothing wrong with Jonas."

"He's meek and quiet and hangs back against the wall."

"There's nothing wrong with not wanting to be the center of attention all the time, Matty."

"There is when he drags you back there with him."

Lily opened her mouth to refute the statement, but then pulled back from the argument. "If I am, it's because I want to be," she replied in a curt tone. "I like not being noticed."

"You're lying," Matthias said with a tilt of his head. "Every beast likes to be noticed."

Lily closed her eyes; fighting off the memories and voices from her mind until her shoulders shook from effort…

_"That's the little Lily-maid… Martin the Warrior's daughter…"_

_"Such a special little maiden!"_

_"She has quite a talent..."_

_"Watch out for Lily…"_

_"What a precious little flower – dancing in the middle of all those beasts… not a fearful bone in her…"_

_"Look at me! I'm Lily of Redwall!"_

She snapped her eyes open once more to wipe the sounds and visions from her past away from her thoughts. "I don't like to be noticed, Matthias," Lily whispered and let out a shuddering sigh to compose herself once more. "Not anymore."

"Alright, fine," Matthias acquiesced gently, seeing her distress. "I have to get going anyways – I'm meeting Ratherwood and Lis."

"Fishing again?"

"Ye-ep."

"Watch your shield arm when Ratherwood turns. He's quick with a back slash."

Matthias stopped dead in his tracks at her statement and turned back, his expression blank. "How do you –"

"You forget I help Mama with all the mending, Matty," Lily winked. "I know when fabric's been cut with a keen edge of a blade and not a rip from a tree. So does Mama. We're on to you three."

"Uh-huh. Well, it's just –"

"La-La-La-La-La!" Lily shouted and covered her ears, balancing her folio on her lap. "I don't want to know. If I know nothing, I'm hiding nothing from others and that's fine by me. I have enough secrets to keep."

"Alright, Lil," Matthias smiled. "I won't tell Mama you've been snogging Jonas and you don't tell anyone I've been sword fighting."

"I haven't been snogging," she gasped and chucked her charcoal at him. "Jonas and I aren't even courting –"

"Could have fooled me," Matthias jested and nimbly dodged the missile to the right. "You two have been warming up to each other since the fall. What's wrong – can't he see a flower through the forge smoke?"

"Oh, you're horrible!" Lily squealed, bright red with embarrassment and fluster. "Matthias of Noonvale, you're an absolute beast!"

But he was gone down the overgrown path; a shadow in the trees and a bolt of laughter ringing through the air.

* * *

Reserved, gentle and private: The ideal qualities a male should look for in a wife – or traits deemed imperative according to his father. Those three words encircled Jonas' mind as he sat at the sycamore benches outside Council Lodge watching a squirrelmaid exhibit the exact opposite mannerisms.

"Isn't it _gorgeous?"_ Elisa elated from the center of a horde of gawking females, holding up her left paw for all to see. Gasps and words of congratulations poured in around her – each form of recognition bristling her tail with pride until it was twice its normal size. Back and forth, the squirrelmaid flicked her wrist to show off the intricate details of the silver band circling her finger; each motion catching the etched scrollwork to glint in the setting sunlight. Finally, unable to control herself, Elisa bellowed, "I'm getting married!"

Off to the side, Crugger stood back with a group of males, grinning broadly and shaking paws while mugs of ale were passed around in celebration. Glancing Jonas' way, the burly squirrel gave him a half smile and tipped his mug before taking a drink; a gesture Jonas acknowledge and a quick lift of his own cup. He had just put the liquid to his lips when Elisa let out another squeal of delight, causing the apprentice smith to sputter and cough from a start. Beside him, his father shook his head at the scene.

"Ridiculous," he grumbled and took a sip of his own tankard. "Yowling like somebeast shaved her tail to get everybeast here was one thing, but now to carry on like this and draw so much egotistic attention… Elisa acts like she didn't know it was coming."

"Maybe she didn't, Father," Jonas shrugged, placing his ale down on the bench between them and wiping his still sooty paws on the front of his solid gray kilt. Watching a particular petite mousemaid linger on the sidelines of the females, he muttered, "I think she's allowed to be excited."

"Excitement is one thing, my lad, but a spectacle is another," Jessop instructed. "And that," he winged his foreclaw around the gaggle, "is a spectacle.

"A future bride should be excited to be engaged, but she should be so with her intended," he furthered. "To make such a scene is purely self-indulgent. Not a promising start to a successful marriage – they'll be at each other's throats over their own vanity in a month."

"They aren't getting married for a whole season, Father," Jonas informed him and stifled a chuckle at his father's horrified expression. "It's true – I took Crugger's order for their tail rings myself. They don't need to be ready for a whole season."

"Ridiculous," Jessop grumbled again. Taking another drink from his cup, the smithmouse rose to his footpaws and wandered over to the group of council elders standing back observing the revelry. Jonas watched quietly as Keldon greeted his father with a pawshake and an instant inclusion to the conversation.

"Good evening, Jonas."

Giving a quick smirk at the soft voice, Jonas twisted on his seat to Lily standing off to his left. Immediately, he shuffled over on the bench and patted the wood beside him.

"Good evening, Lily," he said gently. "Do you want to sit?"

She nodded her reply and seated herself down on the polished wood, flattening her tawny coloured dress skirts and consciously patting down her headfur which had loosened from her bun. Placing her satchel on her lap, Lily strummed her claws over the canvas flap in their discomfited silence, while Jonas nervously rubbed the back of his neck with paw.

"So," she started, a slight flush tingeing her ears. "This is exciting news."

"Yes," Jonas agreed. "But Crugger and Elisa have been courting for some time now and they are of age… It's expected."

"I suppose," Lily concurred and looked on as the two affianced moved closer together. Elisa curled into Crugger's arms and wound her tail around his legs, taking extra care to lay her left paw flat on his chest to exhibit her ring. "The ring is beautiful, Jonas," she complimented him. "You did excellent work."

His eyes flew up to hers. "How did you know it was my work?" he questioned and motioned to the group conversing with his father. "Most beasts assume it was my father's craftsbeastship."

"I saw all the engravings and details on it," Lily whispered, leaning in as if they were sharing a great secret. "I couldn't imagine your father having the patience for such a task."

"Not now that he has me to do it," Jonas exhaled, "But that's what apprentices are for. He moulded the silver, but then gave it to me to finish."

"Well, it's lovely all the same," Lily repeated.

Jonas gave a bashful huff and shook his head at the praise. "Thank-you, Lily."

"You're welcome."

Another silence flowed between them and Jonas cleared his throat at the pressure. Looking around to find another conversation piece, his gaze settled on her satchel.

"Any new drawings?" he asked innocently.

"Yes," Lily responded with a modest smile. Hugging the canvas closer to her chest, she added, "And no, you can't see them."

"That's not fair," Jonas teased. "You get to see my work all the time. When do I get to see yours?"

"I don't show anybeast my sketches," Lily admitted. "Not even my family sees them – you can ask Matty if you don't believe me."

"Maybe I will tomorrow since I hear he'll be helping Father and me with the roof repairs," he said and pointed to the sheets of tin stacked neatly at the side of the lodge. "Should make for an interesting day."

"Not really. Matty is not impressed with his punishment and I have to warn you – he may be good at archery and slings, but his aim with a hammer –" she paused to give an noticeable wince, "Is not so accurate."

"Great," he drawled out. "Well, then thank the Seasons it's almost finished. Your uncle was adamant he wanted it completed for young Bryon's birthday so that only gives us a week."

"Yes, they have quite the celebration planned," Lily said with a hint of exasperation. A loud cheer rang up from the crowd and Lily looked up to see Crugger plant an exaggerated kiss on Elisa's lips – both of them breaking away from the embrace with smiles and laughter.

"They look very happy," she stated and clutched her satchel tighter to her heart. "Elisa's been hoping he'd propose for months now. She's talked of nothing else but marriage since the first snowfall!"

Again, Jonas cleared his throat and picked up his ale mug, gazing into the cup and swirling the brew thoughtfully.

"Do you ever think about it?" he breathed and looked up at her. "Do you ever think about marriage?"

"Me?" Lily stressed and glanced forward, batting her brown eyes at the statement before answering. "No. No, not really."

"No?" Jonas pressed and shifted closer to her. "I thought all females talked about it when they reached a certain age – like you just said Elisa has been."

"Well, I guess I'm not like most females," Lily shrugged. "I'll probably die an old maid with a scroll and some ink in paw."

_You're too pretty to die an old maid,_ Jonas thought and then twiddled his clawtips on the sides of the mug. All around them the warm spring air played on their whiskers and danced about their ears, whispering romance and wafting the smells of fresh leaves, budding flowers, and fertile ground. It was spring – the season when things begun anew – perhaps it was time he did, too.

"Erm, Lily?" he started, furrowing his brow in concentration and hope. "Are you going to Bryon's feast?"

"Yes!" Lily chortled. "It's my cousin's first birthday; of course I will be there with my family."

"Yes, yes, of course you will," he mumbled, mentally berating himself for his naïve question. "I mean, will you dance with me – at the feast?"

"If you'd like me to –"

"I mean, will you dance _only _with me?" Jonas furthered and, inhaling deeply, looked Lily in the eye. "I'd like to walk you to the feast as well, if that's alright with you?"

"Oh," Lily breathed and crimsoned deeply. "I- I- that is I…"

"Never mind," Jonas said quickly and got to his footpaws. "It was a silly question. I'm sorry –"

"No, no, it wasn't silly!" Lily gasped and reached out to touch his paw. Jonas stopped his retreat and stared at her paw on his before glancing back into her eyes.

"Lily!" Rose called from across the revelry where she stood with Brome and the rest of his family and an ecstatic Marcena bouncing beside her. "Lily, dear – come on its time for dinner!"

Lily started and withdrew her paw, chuckling tensely as she rose up to face the smithmouse. Hooking both her thumbs under the strap of her satchel, she sighed, "I have to go."

"Yes, of course," Jonas said, dipping his head slightly to the side and pushing his shirt sleeves back up to expose the developed muscles of his forearms under his gray fur. "I need to return to the forge anyway and keep the fires going. We're still working on the roof's figurehead and –"

"Lily!"

"Goodbye, Jonas!" Lily exclaimed and spun round on her heel. Trotting ten paces across the green space, she stopped and turned back to see Jonas still watching her depart. True he wasn't tall or dashing or even that brave, but he was constant, steadfast and, most importantly, always there.

"Jonas?" she called and he took a step forward to show he heard her. "Bryon's feast starts at dusk," she blurted out before she lost her nerve. "Don't be late."

With that, Lily dashed away around the side of the gathering to her mother and sister; taking Marcena by the paw and skipping away to the stream cottage as fast as the mouselet's footpaws could take them.

* * *

**So, that's a new chapter for you there. ;)**

**Anyways... you know the routine - IF YOU READ IT, PLEASE REVIEW IT!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Special thanks to minkspit and MrDill for reviewing the last chapter. AND Super-Special thanks going out to Lady Storm who provided me with a sketch so _The Lilymaid_ could have a cover piece. THANKS! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The courtyard was as silent as a crypt. Above the blackened stone walls of the fortress, deep green banners whipped in the stiff sea breeze, the embroidered claws of its insignia clutching and unclutching the silver coiled snake with the motion. The flags flicked and snapped in the Eastern Sea's wind, their forked ends tonguing the peaceful sky like an adder to its prey. In the belly of the beast, ten vermin guards stood at attention by a raised wooden platform and watched as a group of mice were marched up the steps and into their according spaces. None of captives spoke a word. What could they say? Death was death – whether it was at the end of an oar, the tip of a spear or the noose of a rope – they were dead already.

A lever creaked against its gears and seven trapdoors opened with a _whoosh._ Ropes pulled tight, quivering with strain, while seven bodies suspended in the air above the scaffold. Four were lucky to snap their necks in the drop, but the remaining three gasped and twitched on the lines; their eyes bulging out from their lids as if the sockets could breathe in air the twine denied their throats. One by one they ceased their movements until there was only one fighting for life – a lad in his adolescent seasons – kicking his footpaws and trying to find a foothold. He pulled with all his might at the bonds around his wrists and grunted with exertion. He fought bravely for his life, but it was futile. Slowly, his struggles ebbed and expelling a final guttural sound from his throat, he stilled and slacked against his holds.

The guards came forward, poking the mice with spears to ensure their demise before removing them from the structure. All around not a sound was made in peep or protest. Even as they carried the limp bodies to a cart by the gate, the vermin did so in silence. The last of the creatures loaded, a stoat rapped his fisted paw on the back of the wagon and the driver cracked his whip above the pair of hedgehogs to signal them into motion. With squinting eyes and pursed lips the hogs pushed forward against the tee taking the horde rat and their cargo out of the gates and towards the sea. At least in their end, the mice could be free.

High above in the eastern tower, a lone rat stood upon the balcony perusing with scene with particular scrutiny. The palms of his paws rested on the railing while his watched, breathing in escalated gulps of air in attempt to relieve his stress.

"They're dead, Clunide," a ratwife sneered from the table centering the chamber. "And none of them were the spooks in your head."

"M-m-mice," he stammered and glanced back over his shoulder at his mate. "Th-they brought m-mice inna Mortver. Inna m-my fortress…"

"They brought the spoils of a tradeship," she countered and rolled her eyes, her brows raising the silver diadem resting on her forehead. "Those mice were strong. They would have made you good oarslaves."

"They c-could have b-been 'im in d-disguise," Clunide muttered to himself, switching his gaze to the courtyard once more and then to the sea beyond the western walls. "H-he said he m-might c-come."

"One mouse against the might of Mortver?" she sniped and waved her paw gallantly around the room adorned with weapons and displays of strength. "He would have lasted as long as a butterfly in a hailstorm."

"You didn't s-see him f-fight," Clunide remarked, lowly… almost to himself. Letting his eyes cloud over into a trance-like state, he recalled, "H-he was run through by spe-spear… cut d-down at the knees… still h-he kept fighting…"

"Oh, stop your jabbering," the ratmaid commanded and stood up from her chair. Walking into the light, she paused to adjust the heavy silver girdle around her hips and motioned him to her. "Come back inside, Clunide, before some hordebeast see you. They should not see the Lord of Mortver afraid of seven dead mice."

He turned back to her. "One m-mouse, Ratna."

"I know, Clunide, I know," she relented more out of frustration than sympathy. There was no use arguing with him when he was like this; no use pressing on him reality when all he now lived in were dreams and shadows. "Just come away from the balcony."

He nodded and acquiesced to her request; leaving the sunlight and retreating into the shade of his chamber. Settling down on a cushioned seat, the once mighty ratlord slumped his elbows onto the armrests and sat staring at the door like he was expecting somebeast to come through the frame. His eyes were overwide and gaunt, his head had almost a constant tremor and even spittle dribbled from his mouth if he didn't concentrate on swallowing. He was a shadow of the beast he had been before his failed excursion to the mainland; a shell entrapping a soul driven mad with foreseeings and burning red eyes.

"I need t'make more poison," he mumbled and looked on as Ratna poured a beaker of wine. "I need t'be prepared –"

"No more wolfsbane, Clunide," Ratna admonished him and held out the goblet. He eyed her nervously and drew back from the liquid, causing her to roll her eyes again and sample the drink for him. Upon her ingestion (and survival) he accepted the offering and sipped at the wine slowly. "Handling those blooms make you imagine things are real that aren't. I mean, really – ships with golden sails chasing you down the hallways – "

"They be real!" he snapped and pummelled his cup against the table top with an explosion of lapped over wine, a minute flare of his one-time fire. "It be my dreams – they be real!"

"They are _dreams,"_ Ratna stressed. "Dreams are not real." Moving close to him, she knelt down before him. "Dreams are here," she said and tapped his forehead before taking his free paw and squeezing it, _"We _are real."

"Its sight be real, too."

Ratna withdrew her paw and rose up to back away, scowling. "Shadows and ravings of a crazed –"

"They be real."

"And it has told you, the mouse with red eyes is done… finished… his use rots in the green of spring." Clunide flinched at the reference. Ratna persisted. "His line is ended. It is done. Over. Let it go."

"It st-still says t-to be c-c-cautious. It s-sees t-trouble ahead."

"A madbeast sees what it wants to see," she replied and stomped her way around the table with a swish of her mulberry skirts. Ratna retreated to the series of windows overlooking the dense pine forests at the foot of the island's single mountain in the near distance. From the tree line to midway up the crag, the purplish-blue from wolfsbane flowers stared back at her, challenging her. The same way the shadows of their chamber – no, the whole fortress – challenged her. The same way, _it_ challenged her.

"You need to concentrate on the present," she proclaimed and twisted back to him. Behind her, a shadow rippled in the corner. She didn't notice. "Clunkin is halfway across the seas awaiting the western corsairs' homage at Irgash. Clunring is leading forces against the Wrenlid rebellion and what are you doing? Cowering in your chamber?"

"I-I am n-not c-c-cowering," he snarled and leapt to his feet. Striding over to her, Clunide grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her. "M-mice, Ratna. They let m-mice into my fortress."

"You're mad!" she shrieked and pushed herself away from him. "You're as insane as the seer that's damned you!"

The ring of a blade unsheathing sounded through the chamber and Ratna froze at the tip of a cold point against her back. Behind her she would hear wheezing; the smell of rot and refuse.

"Get your dirk away from me or I will drown you myself!" she snapped, grimacing as the point pressed harder into her back, pricking her skin through her dress fabric. "Go back to the shadows."

"You leave the master alone," the inky creature hissed from the shadows. "His mind is heavy with thought."

"Because you have made it such!" Ratna flared and twisted away from it. "All of you ruspics should have died in the collapse of the Clap. All of you – especially you."

The shadow twitched and contorted at her words, the black of his cloak flicking this way and that in its movements. "Chesyd was saved from destruction," the voice leered beneath its blackened hood. "Along with your mate – we are one, he and I…"

"No!" Ratna cried and unsheathed the dagger hidden from the folds of her sleeve. "You do not –"

"Ratna, n-no!" Clunide bellowed and wrapped his arms around her body to hold her back. "D-don't. You'll c-curse yourself – our line!"

"It's already cursed," she shouted and struggled against his embrace. "Listen to you – listen to what it's made you become."

"Victory and Defeat."

The two noble rats stilled at the rasped expression and gaped at the dark figure. It moved and raised the stub of a pawless arm to its face. "Victory and Defeat," it murmured, swaying on its footpaws. "Mortver has victory and defeat."

"Clunkin?" Ratna whimpered and slumped against her mate's hold. "Clunring? Who is defeated?"

"Red eyes quell to shades of gray,  
Whispers, moments, secrets lay,  
Battle before – but in which Bay?  
A Flower ready does not stay.  
Forsake the land, it was not yours to hold,  
The sea is where your fortune's told –  
Ships and sails, Guard and pike,  
Protect their shores against cors-like.  
Ever will their hearts be true,  
A land of plenty just for you –"

It paused and flinched back and forth, writhing in the confines of its cloak.

"W-well?" Clunide demanded and stepped in front of Ratna. "G-g-go on!"

The creature stopped its stirring, stilling to the point of statue and uttered one single word.

"Eutrusia."

* * *

_"Do you think Da will be back today, Raynen?" a young mouse asked as he bounced happily beside his older brother. "Ma said that it takes two days by ship to come back to Nilhand from the Palace Vasilis. Today would be the second day wouldn't it?"_

_"Yes, Rhys," Raynen replied as the two mice walked through the peaceful woods towards their fort they had made amongst a pile of tumbled rocks by the River Eu. "When we go back for our mid-day meal, Ma will probably take us to the docks to meet him."_

_"Do you think he'll bring us back something?" Rhys said excitedly. "Last time he brought us back wooden tops from the market. Remember?"_

_"Uh-huh," Raynen nodded. Rounding with the path around a large ash tree, Raynen spied the large group of stones. Looking at his brother he gave him a wink. "Race you?"_

_The two mice sped off in the direction of their fort, laughing and trying to outdo the other. In the end, it was Raynen who bounded onto the low crag first and gave a triumphant "Aha!"_

_"That's not fair, Raynen!" Rhys protested, crossing his paws over his chest. "Your legs are longer!"_

_Raynen just laughed and looked out over the river like it was an ocean before kneeling down to extend a paw to his brother._

_"Climb abroad, matey!" Raynen jested._

_"Aye-aye, sir!" Rhys replied. With a quick salute, he walked inside the break in the stone where the two had hidden a secret collection of things they had found in the water. It wasn't much; mainly trinkets and cups, but all the same, it was bewildering to the two mice how they would have gotten in the calm waters of the River Eu. _

_Picking up a broken compass, Rhys pondered aloud, "Do you think we will find more treasure today, Raynen?"_

_"We'll have to see!" Raynen grinned and put down his pack containing their snack and a dagger for each of them in case they ran into trouble in the forest. "Come on, Rhys let's –"_

_Before Raynen could finish they heard a loud rumble and felt a slight tremble beneath their paws._

_"Raynen?" Rhys quivered as the trembling increased and the trinkets started to move and rattle on their makeshift shelves. Raynen grabbed his younger brother, pulling him down onto his knees and kneeling over to protect him as the rocks shook around them. Within a few moments the shaking stopped and the two mice were left dusted and anxious. Shaking rock dust from his head, Raynen stood up slowly and looked around at the scattered remnants of their treasure._

_"Raynen what was that?" Rhys asked his voice still shaky._

_"I'm not sure, Rhys," he responded as he walked out into the sunlight of the day. The forest was eerily quiet now, the river splashing angrily against the banks at being disturbed from its normal flow. Then there was a noise; a yell. And then another. And another. Looking up towards the mountains where the village lay close to the mines, Raynen could see billows of dust clouds floating up over the trees. And more screams._

_Glancing at Rhys as he came out of their refuge, Raynen nimbly climbed to the top of the rock to get a better look, but he couldn't see anything over the trees. All they could hear now was screaming and yelling._

_"What's happening, Raynen?" Rhys inquired. "What can you see?"_

_"I can't see anything," Raynen confessed, jumping down onto the ledge. "But there are creatures in trouble, Rhys. We have to go help."_

_"Should we not go back to the palace and tell Grandfather?" Rhys said warily as Raynen retrieved his pack and took out the two daggers, handing one to his brother and thrusting the other in his own belt._

_"No," Raynen affirmed. "He'll be on his way to Norwood village I'm sure, but he's old Rhys; he will be slow getting there. We have to go. We have to help. It's our duty."_

_"How is it our duty?" Rhys gulped. "We don't even know what happened."_

_"It doesn't matter what happen, Rhys," Raynen said sternly. "Nilhanders are in danger. They need our help. We are the sons of the Admiral of Eutrusia and the grandsons of the Steward of the North. It is our duty to help any northern creature in trouble."_

_With that the two mice took off running through the woods towards the screams and cries before them. Towards the dust… towards the fires… towards the mines… towards the darkness and the screaming and the smell of blood…_

Raynen awoke with a start, nearly upsetting his chair where he was sat by the fire in his private chambers in Saelmere Keep - the official seat of the Lord Admiral of Eutrusia. Outside his open windows, the smell of the warm Western Sea wafted through the sheers from the Bay of Aureli and the sounds of the city echoed off the lavish expanse of his room. Looking around to get his bearings, the mouse let out a deep breath and rubbed his paws over the dark fur on his face. He had been dreaming again. Fifteen seasons and he still remembered it as if it were yesterday.

Outside his door there was a murmur of voices, followed by a loud knock at the door. "My Lord Admiral!" the guard called, "Captain Connor to see you, m'lord."

"Send him in," Raynen ordered, standing from his seat and reaching for his tunic tossed over the back of a lounge. Sliding his arms through the sleeves, the admiral pulled the garb over his shirt and was just fastening his belt around his waist when a burly mouse wearing a navy uniform and a red cloak pushed his way through the door.

"Ah good, you're up!" he smiled and gave Raynen a friendly shove as he strode by. "I heard you were down here asleep – the nerve of you! Don't you know Queen Cyrene prefers you lodge in your family's state apartments in the palace so she can keep tabs on you?"

"What for now, Connor?" Raynen said tiredly and knelt down to pick up the papers which had fallen from his grasp while he dozed off. "I've only been on land for half a day – surely no disasters have befallen Eutrusia in that short a time."

"Depends what you define as _disaster,"_ the captain chuckled from the sideboard. Pouring them both a goblet of wine, he offered one to his friend.

"Council meeting," Connor furthered and took a drink from his cup. "Something about a gift and an alliance and blah, blah, blah… I stopped listening to the daft herald after I knew I didn't have to muster the Guard."

"So, why do they need me?" Raynen yawned and took the cup from Connor's scarred paw. "Seasons Connor, why won't you just wear gauntlets?"

"I don't like them," the mouse shrugged. "And don't change the subject. We'll find out more during the meeting, but there's something about you needing to send a crew north to get a beast from the mainland."

"Why am I not going?" Raynen questioned. He may have returned back from a tour of the southern seas and was exhausted from constant battles on the waters, but if there was a duty to Eutrusia that involved a ship, it was his responsibility to see to it.

"Again, Raynen, I wasn't listening!" Connor said, rolling his eyes and flopping down onto the lounge. "I'm sure Her Majesty has another task for you to see that's more important than fetching a beast."

"Have they sent the missive yet?" Raynen asked, his mind immediately focusing on which ship to send and whom to crew her with. Walking over to his bureau, Raynen put down his goblet and papers to began shuffling through listings and reports - turning ever so slightly so his friend could not see as he squinted vaguely at the text.

"Aye, the flapper's been sent," Connor smirked. "The Ol' Soot himself, I believe."

"Must be an important beast to get a Sooty Tern," Raynen said almost absentmindedly. "And you stopped listening…"

"Well, my ears perked up after that fact, but by then it was too late."

"Indeed," Raynen mused and sunk down onto his desk chair. As much as he loved the sea, it felt good to be back on solid ground again - and sitting in a seat that didn't rock with the waves. "And when is Her Majesty hosting said meeting?"

"Now."

_"Now?" _he exclaimed, leaping back up to his footpaws. Popping his gray eyes at the captain, Raynen gave an incredulous huff. "Like this moment?"

"Yep," he winked. "Shame on you, Lord Admiral Raynen – being late for such an important meeting – the queen will never forgive you!"

"Right," Raynen chortled and pulled a silver collar off the back of his chair. Flipping the visage of state over his head to rest on his shoulders, he added, "Why did you not just send a herald for me?"

"I wanted to hear about the battles," Connor admitted and downed the rest of his wine. "You had half the fleet in the Southern Sea for over a fortnight – I expect there'll be some good stories to come out of it."

"One or two bards will be singing about it come the dawn I'm sure, but –"

"Captain! Lord Admiral!" a herald shouted from the corridor. "The council is waiting."

"Duty calls," Connor groaned and stood back up again. Stretching his paws to the ceiling, Connor twisted left and right to crack his back. "Come on. You can tell me all about it on the way up to Palace Vasilis."

* * *

**If you read it, please review it! :)**


	5. Chapter 4

**Alright, so I forgot to post this on Wednesday... *sorry***

**Special thanks to MrDill, minkspit and Lady Storm for reviewing the last chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"Wake up, wake up, wake u-p!" Marcena cried as she clambered aboard Matthias' bed and began bouncing on her sleeping brother. "Matty, Mama says _wake-up!"_

"Uhhh…" Matthias groaned and rolled over onto his stomach. Flopping the pillow over his head, he grumbled, "Sleeping."

"Oh no, it's time to get up," the maiden prattled, her blue eyes shining in the light filtering in his doorway from the main room. With all her might she started shaking Matthias' shoulders and pushing at his body to get him to move. "Mama says you can't be late to work on the lodge roof… and you _have _to get it fixed – Byron's birthday is in six more sleeps!"

Again the pillow groaned, but shifted slightly towards the room's small window. "Ugh, Marcey – go back to bed. It's still dark out!"

"It's almost dawn," she protested and slid off the mattress to point at the skyline beyond the glass. "Lookit – it's kinda purple."

"Marcey, how long have you been up?" Matthias moaned as he sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching his shoulders.

Her mischievous grin curled from ear to ear. "For a while!"

"I thought that," he chuckled at the elated expression on her face. Marcena was never one to sleep in and though neither was he, Matthias did enjoy sleeping until at least the sun woke as well. Even when she was a mouseling, his sister was always up at unearthly hours – always in a hurry to start her day; but none of them cared. She was the little darling of their family and the rock that kept them grounded. Through her, their father was still with them – the flower he left behind to bloom and blossom after he returned to them that one spring night eight seasons ago.

"Did you make me any breakfast?" he asked while she climbed aboard the bed again; the cream coloured skirts from her nightgown fanning out around her body as Marcena sat on his lap once more.

"Uh-ugh," she replied with a wobble of her head, her loose headfur waving around her face. "Mama is making scones and I put out the jams and set the table all by myself!"

"Good, because I'm starving."

"Marcey, did you get him – oh, good you're awake, Matthias," Rose smirked from the doorway while wiping flour from her paws onto her apron. Brushing her skirts flat once more, Rose cupped her left paw over her headfur arrangement and added, "Jessop was very adamant with me yesterday that they start work right at dawn. You don't want to be late for your first day, do you?"

"Fantastic," Matthias muttered out and grunted when Marcey catapulted herself into his arms. "I was hoping to get a run in before – _ouch!"_ Matthias yelped when Marcey hugged her arms around his chest. Instantly, he began sucking in dregs of air and removed her little paws from around him.

"What's wrong, Matty?" she frowned and watched as he held the left side of his ribs. Confused, Marcena glanced up at her mother as she shuffled her way through the narrow space between Matthias' bed and sideboard. "Mama, Matty's hurt."

"I see that," Rose mused and raised an eyebrow at her son. "What's wrong with your ribs, Matthias?" she asked pointedly.

"Nothing," he lied, lifting Marcena off his thighs and onto the floor. Swinging his own legs over the edge, he stood and straightened his nightshirt. "Alright, I'm up – you two can go so I can get dressed."

"Marcena, go wake up your sister," Rose instructed and turned the maiden around by her shoulders.

"But I want to make sure Matty's okay!" she protested and dug her heels into the floorboards. "He's hurt."

"I'll see to your brother, don't you worry."

"I'm fine, Marcey," Matthias assured her and ruffled her ears. "Go wake up Lil. It's not fair she gets to sleep in if the rest of us have to be up."

"Matty – _stop!"_ the little maiden cried and batted his paw away from her head. "Mama, Matty fuzzed up my headfur!"

"It's already fuzzy."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"You fuzzed it," she grumped and flapped her palms over her wispy locks in attempt to flatten them down again. "It's all fuzzy now – say you're sorry."

"Marcena, Matthias, please," Rose snorted at them and corralled the maiden out from the room. "Marcey, get Lily to comb your headfur again and it will be fine."

"But Matty didn't say sorry!"

"He will after, now go," she commanded and gave her a little shove through doorway. Rose waited until she saw Marcey trot across the main room and disappear into the chamber she shared with Lily. Two blinks later, she heard her:

"Wake up, wake up, wake u-p! Lily-Lil, Mama says _wake up!"_

"Oh, that little maiden," Rose simpered and let out a motherly sigh. "And you –" she started, turning back to her son where he was searching through his wardrobe to select his clothes. "What have you done to yourself now, Matthias?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing my tail," she sniped and moved up beside him. "Matthias – don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying. _I_ didn't do anything to myself."

"Fine," she said and dipped down to pick up his clothes from the previous day. Carefully inspecting his shirt for any rips or sigh of blood, Rose happened to glance up in time to see his sly smirk. "So, you wised up and learned to take your shirt off before you spar," Rose challenged him and rested her paws on her hips. "Not like they offer much padding anyways when you get a pommel in the ribs."

Matthias spun around and gawked at her, his mouth slightly agape in disbelief. "But… how…?"

"Matthias, you have a lot to learn if you think you're going to hide combat wounds from me," Rose stated. "Don't think I don't know about Ratherwood and Lis teaching you more than training with staves and slings; don't think I don't know their old weapons are missing from the lockrooms in Council Lodge."

"Maybe a little more," Matthias confessed and rolled his eyes when Rose's stern stare increased. "Okay, a lot more, but I want to learn how to fight, and fight well."

"Matthias, there is no fighting permitted in Noonvale," Rose exhaled and settled down on the bed. Patting the mattress beside her, she put an arm around her son's shoulders when he sat down to acquiesce to her silent request. "You know the rules. If you are caught with a blade weapon, you will be asked to leave the village."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" he murmured.

Rose's eyes glazed over and a tremor fluttered over her lips for a moment before she uttered a soft sigh and said, "Matthias –"

"We could go home then," he said, looking her deep in the eye. "You, me, Lily, Marcey. All of us. We could go home and be with Father like we're supposed to and –"

"No, Matthias," Rose firmed and took his paws in hers. Squeezing them tight, she furthered, "You know we can't; and this… Noonvale is our home. We are home."

"This is _not_ our home. This is only the place we stay."

"This is the place we are safe," Rose corrected him. "We cannot leave here. You know this – for yours and Marcena's safety we must stay in Noonvale."

"I know," he huffed and let his shoulders slump slightly. "I just want to see our real home with my own eyes and not just in the images in Lily's drawings. I want to see Redwall for myself and be with Father again."

"I know, Matthias."

"If we went home, Lily could finally be the recorder she still wants to be. I could be the warrior I want to be. You could stop being looked down upon and Marcey –" he paused and glanced sideways at his mother. "Marcey would get to meet him."

"Matthias, a lot of things would happen if we left Noonvale," Rose replied, trying to broach the topic gently. "And some of them very good and great things – some of them things that have long been dreams to us; but there would also be bad things that would come in their wake. Horrible things that would far outweigh any initial joy us going to Redwall would bring. Surely you must see that?"

"But Marcey doesn't even know who he is," Matthias argued. "Uncle Brome wouldn't let you even send word to Father when she was born."

"No, but that was because he was worried of any information falling into the wrong paws and exposing Noonvale – and us – to danger," she added. "Besides, I agreed to it. It would have broken your father's heart to know he had another child he couldn't be there for.

"Matthias, I want you to stop fighting," she said in his silence. "For me, and your family, I want you to stop."

"But it makes me feel like I have a purpose," he relented, keeping his eyes firmly on the floorboards at his feet. "Father wanted me to learn – I know he did, that's why he left me my wooden sword."

"Yes, that may be, but –" she stopped and looked out through the window, perking her ears to the sound of birds beginning to chirp in the growing light. "It's getting close to dawn – we'll finish this discussion later."

Rising up from the bed, Rose gave him a kiss on the top of his head and clasped him lightly on the chin to pull his gaze up to hers. He had grown up so much over the last few seasons that it was hard for her to believe he was the same little mouseling she used to carry with her everywhere; afraid that if she put him down for one instant he'd be gone.

"Hurry and get dressed, Matthias," she whispered, not trusting her full voice to falter with emotion. "I'll get some scones ready for you to take to Council Lodge. Maybe if you bring some food along, Jessop will forgive your tardiness."

* * *

"You're late."

Matthias stopped at the base of the ladder and looked up at the two silhouettes peering down at him from the roof of Council Lodge. At first he simply gawked at the two mice looming over the edge, but then he moved his gaze downward, glancing from side to side as if to find some other beast the greeting was meant for other himself. Finding no other, Matthias let out a sigh before tipping of his head back further than before to blatantly view the sky as it lightened from its indigo colouring into a crisp mauve with the dawn, the stars still twinkling and the moon a blue-white crescent above.

"Hurry up and get up here," the gruff voice sounded again and the two creatures shuffled up the frame.

"I brought some fresh scones," Matthias started as he held up a linen-wrapped parcel. "My mother just made them and thought –"

A great huff cut him off. "We've already eaten, lad," was the reply. "Besides, neither Jonas nor I need buttering up from your mother."

"She's not trying to butter you up," Matthias grumbled to the shadows above. "It's called being considerate…"

"Just put them on the bench by the tin for later and get your tail up here."

"Good morning to you, too," he muttered under his breath and started to climb the ladder. Reaching the top rung, he paused and watched as Jonas and Jessop manoeuvred a sheet of tin between the roof joists by light of a few lanterns on the bare ridgepole. The two of them worked in relative silence making him ponder what sort of help he could possibly be to the smiths when they seemed to be drudging along fine without him. Mustering as much enthusiasm as he could, Matthias began, "Well, what do you need me to –"

"You're late, Matthias," Jessop interrupted and retrieved a nail from his belt pouch. With a few quick taps of his hammer, the smithmouse tacked the metal in place and motioned for Jonas to do the same on his end. "I specifically told your mother we begin at dawn – not show up at dawn." He lifted his head to eye the young mouse sternly. "Don't be late again."

Matthias grit his teeth at the reprimand. A thousand retorts bubbled in his mind, but he held them away from his tongue. The last thing he had promised his mother was that he would behave and was determined to see this punishment through to the end with as little friction as possible. Swallowing a great lump of pride, he replied, "Yes, sir."

"Here you are, Matthias," Jonas said plainly and handed him the extra hammer from his belt. "I thought you might need one of these."

"Erm, thanks," Matthias nodded and took the offered tool. "What do you want me to do?"

Jonas looked over at his father. "The pair of you get the rest of the tin laid and tacked on this side," Jessop instructed them. "I'm going to the other side to make sure Arlow and Crugger replaced those rotten beams."

"Why are we just nailing them right on?" Matthias questioned once Jessop slid over the ridgepole and disappeared into the shadows. "Makes no sense to tack them all down and then come back to nail them in – it's doing the same thing twice."

"We don't want to start really hammering at this time in the morning, Matthias," Jonas informed him and made a quick gesture around the tranquil village. "Most beasts are still sleeping."

"Then why start this early?" he complained and shoved the hammer into his belt to give Jonas a paw fitting the next sheet into place. "You could just start _after_ dawn."

"And if we did that, we'd only have less time to work on the roof. By high sun, the tin gets too hot to handle and we have to wait until twilight to get back up here again. Besides, this way we can make sure all the pieces match up before securing them down."

Matthias just shrugged and held the metal still for Jonas to tap in the tack-nails. No matter how sound Jonas' logic, it still seemed like a waste of time to him.

"Well, whatever."

"It's not _whatever_, Matthias, it's the way it's done," Jonas sniped. Giving Matthias a hard look, he said, "A slow job done right is faster than a speedy job done wrong."

"Sure."

Jonas put down his hammer and looked at the adolescent mouse. "Do you always have to have the last word?" he questioned with a mixture of frustration and wonder. If he had ever talked back so much, his father would have cuffed him across the ears. However, seeing as Matthias didn't have a father, that area of discipline was clearly lacking in the mouse and no surprise his tongue ran as wild as his younger sister. Oftentimes, Jonas found it difficult to believe Lily had been raised in the same household as the two misbegotten creatures.

Matthias grinned and scooted down the brace to the next sheet of tin. "Maybe."

"Well, try not to," Jonas instructed him. "I don't appreciate backtalk and it will only make my father mad."

"I'm not –" Matthias started to argue, but quit when he saw the tips of Jessop's ear perk over the ridgepole. "Fine," he relented begrudgingly. "I'll be quiet."

"I never said you had to be quiet," Jonas put in as they both worked together to move the metal sheet. "Don't you know how to talk without arguing?"

"Yes."

"Well then," Jonas coaxed and tacked the tin down. "Talk."

"About what?" Matthias questioned and gestured around the sleeping valley. "Why the sun rises in the east? Or maybe why I hear you're escorting _Lily_ to Bryon's birthday feast?"

Jonas crimsoned from ear tip to tail. "You're impossible."

"Alright, you two – that's enough chit-chat," Jessop announced as he slipped back over the apex of the roof. "I have to go get longer nails. Those useless squirrels replaced the beams, but barely secured them. It's a wonder they didn't collapse with the dew."

"Wonderful," Jonas groaned, forgetting his embarrassment and motioning for Matthias to keep working. Handing him a pair of roofing tacks, Jonas added, "Alright, Matthias – you nail down the next one."

With a nod, Matthias moved up beside Jonas and held one of the nails steady while he retrieved the hammer from his belt. Twice he brought the hammer to the nail in aim and then raised his arm high and …

"Now, just tap it –" Jonas began.

"OUCH!" Matthias yowled as the hammer slipped off the nail head and landed soundly on his left paw. "Stupid hammer!"

"Easy, Matthias," Jessop snorted. "You're tacking down tin, not flattening cold steel – there's no need for such force."

"I'm not," Matthias muttered and tapped the nail straight again before he continued hammering. Again, the mallet slipped from its mark and onto the mouse's paw.

"Hellsgates!" Matthias snarled and threw the hammer down on the roof before stopping to massage his throbbing paw. "This is an impossible task. How do you still have your fingers?"

"It's because you are trying to go too fast, Matthias," Jonas chuckled as he picked up the hammer and handed it back to him. Lily really was right about Matthias not being apt with a tool not intended for warfare. "Stop trying to hit the nail so hard and just go slow. It's not a race."

"Maybe not to you," Matthias protested. "But the sooner this roof is done the sooner I get to go about my defensive training and back to my old routine, so yeah, it is a race, _to me_."

"The roof is done when I say it is and it will only take longer the more you muck it up," Jessop put in as he started to descend the ladder. "You, Matthias, must learn patience. And stop your cursing," Jessop added before he slipped out of sight. "Until you're old enough to realize what a curse is you shouldn't be muttering such nonsense."

"Besides," Jessop continued from the darkness. "Unless you met ol' King Mortspear, you don't know what Hellsgates really is."

Matthias cocked his head to the side at the mention. There was something familiar about the name, but he couldn't recall from which legend he heard it from. Beside him, Jonas shuddered.

"Who is King Mortspear?"

* * *

The sun was high and bright in the sky over the vast expanse of Mossflower Woods. The warm spring breeze fluttered through the trees and the great abbey of Redwall stood proud and strong, adding a striking contrast to the green of the forest with its rose-hued walls. All was quiet and peaceful. The only sounds the laughter of the Dibbuns as they played around the abbey's lawn and cloister – an audible assurance of the future generations to come. Seasons would come and go. Lives would wax and wane with the moon, but always Redwall Abbey would endure. As long as it was needed, Redwall would stand tall; or low, depending on its required purpose at the time.

"C'mon, Timkin – you can do it," the kindly mouse coaxed from his belly where he lay on the Great Hall floor. Leaning up on elbow, the Brother of Redwall waved the squirrel kit forward, a reassuring smile beaming right up to his eyes. "Show them what you can do now."

The kit babbled and blew cheeky bubbles with his lips, swishing his tail and playing to the audience of his onlookers. His parents stood off to the side with wide eyed anticipation as they clutched onto each other's paws nervously.

"Now, don't give me any of that," the mouse chortled. "You crawled away from me once today already – you can do it again now that your parents are here."

Timkin cooed in response and rolled over onto his back, curling his tail up over his body and batting at the colours reflecting on his fur from the stained glass windows. A light round of chuckles rippled through the gathering and the Dibbun's father walked forward.

"I don't think he's interested in showing us his secret yet, Mar – Brother Martin," he said and knelt down to rest a paw on the brother's shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow."

"No, he can do it now," Martin grinned and gave a wink to the aging squirrel watching the scene beside a plump mouse. "He just likes playing the crowd. Gonff?" he chirped and held up his paws to make ready for a catch. "Chestnuts."

"Always takin' me snacks away," the mousethief grumbled with a smile and reached inside his vest to produce a small pouch of treats. "Still all warm and gooey from the candying these are."

"Good," Martin nodded and caught the pitched reward with ease. "All the more incentive for him.

"Oh, Tim-kin," he called in a sing-songy-type voice. The bundle of red fur pricked his oversized ears at the sound and rolled back onto his stomach once more, his eyes growing round as saucers when Martin dangled the bag from his clawtips. _"Candied chestnuts…"_

With a click of his tongue and an exaggerated bum wiggle to get upon his knees, Timkin was off and crawling towards the retired warrior. Gasps rising from the crowd mingled with the Dibbun's prattle as he shuffled forward determinedly, making embellished slaps on the flagstones with his tiny paws.

"Oh, Timmin – _look!"_ the squirrelwife cried and held her paws to her lips. "Timkin's crawling! He's really crawling!"

"I see him, Cerese!" Timmin exclaimed and flopped down on his belly beside Martin. "That's it Timkin! Come here to Daddy, that's a lad, c'mon!"

"Here," Martin breathed and handed the young father the bag of treats. "You'll need these." Getting up slowly as to not startle the kit, Martin moved back to let father and son share the proud moment together. He smirked as the two met and Timmin picked up the youngster and praised him, hugging him and telling him how proud he was. Cerese trotted forward to join their revelry before the others flooded in – congratulating the parents just as much as the squirrel kit. Martin simply shook his head and looked on as Timkin stuffed his cheeks with candied nuts, not caring one wit for the extra attention now that he had his snack.

"Thank-you Martin," the aging squirrel said softly as drew up beside the retired warrior.

"For what, Barky?"

"Teaching yet another Dibbun how to make their way in the world," Barklad remarked and proudly puffed out his chest. "I never thought my little grandson would be crawling around this early though!"

"I'm sure his parents will be cursing me by tomorrow," Martin mused and pulled at the loose fabric of his habit. Despite the ample space the garment allowed, he always felt it to be more restricting than battle armour and no matter how many time Columbine altered it, the green garb never felt like it fit him properly. "How have the border patrols been?" he asked, trying to take his mind off his clothing. "Still quiet?"

"As the grave," Barky nodded. "You know you aren't supposed to be worrying about that anymore _Brother_ Martin. Leave the worrying about our borders to Timmin and me. We can handle it."

"I know," Martin sighed and made to rest his left paw on a sword hilt; finding only air, he tried to cover up the gesture by hooking a thumb in his waist cord – a motion that was not lost on his friend. "Some old habits die slow though."

"That they do," Barklad replied and looked back at the tapestry hanging behind the dais at the head of the hall. "Looks good now that Cecily is finished it."

"Yes," Martin agreed and turned back towards the arras. It hung with particular glory with sunlight streaming in from the high windows betwixt a pair of tall floor candelabrums above the dais altar; it was a masterpiece of talents and centerpiece for the abbey's founding with him at the head of a scattering of vermin foes. Yet, despite the brilliant artistry of it, to Martin the tapestry looked plain and dull. No longer did roses vine around the bottoms of his footpaws, nor did lilies border the sides. All softness and heart was plucked out of the fabric leaving only the hard truths of conquest, murder and destruction – the ironic foundations from which the peaceful abbey took root from. Unconsciously, Martin's palm flattened against his chest; the sides of his mouth curling upwards at the sound of crinkling paper over his heart.

_ You may not be there, but you three are always right here,_ he reminisced at the blurry image in his mind of Rose, Lily and Matthias dancing with him in the little stream cottage. His memory loss had ensured he couldn't recall name of the song they danced to, or even the beat of the tune, but he remembered their laughter and the joy they all felt at being together. Nor would he ever forget that feeling as long as he lived.

Clearing his throat against his thoughts, Martin furthered, "These last few seasons have been peaceful enough to allow her to concentrate on sewing cloth instead of wounds."

"Few? Try ten –"

"Alright, matey," Gonff chimed in and slung an arm over Martin's shoulders. "Now that you're done playing nursemaid for the day, I need your help back at Saint Ninian's."

"For what?" Martin questioned and grimaced when Gonff took a step back and twirled a mallet in his paw. "Oh no. I'm not getting back on that roof again – it's a wonder I have any fingers left after the last time."

"Now, stop it, ya vain beastie," Gonff said, waging the hammer at Martin's nose. "How am I suppose t' give the place to me son as a weddin' gift if the roof is a-leakin'?"

Martin snatched Gonff's wrist and held it still in front of his friend's eyes. "Easy. Give him this cursed thing and a bucket of tar and say 'have at it!'"

"A right proper grouch your turning inta, Martin."

"Not at all," he affirmed and relinquished Gonff's arm. "But after losing two clawtips to that stupid tool, I'm not exactly game to jump back into the ring."

"So, you an' a hammer ain't the best of buds," the mousethief jested. "But it's either you come with me before ol' Pushy-Whiskers comes by, or you'll be ordered to help Brother Montrel hoe the gardens again - and with Bella at Brockhall, there's no beast here to save you, matey!"

"Pushy-Whiskers?" Barky questioned, raising an eyebrow when Martin didn't even hesitate in his retreat to the outer door. "Who's Pushy-Whiskers?"

"Sister Mer – er, Abbess Meriam," Gonff corrected himself as he followed along behind Martin. "If ya see her – tell her we'll be gone awhile. A _long_ while!"

* * *

**IF YOU READ IT, PLEASE REVIEW IT!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Special thanks going out to my trio of reviewers - minkspit, Lady Storm and MrDill.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Fr-esh fi-sh! Get your fr-esh fi-sh!"

"Toys for sale! Blocks, tops and dolls – all colours, all sizes!"

"Silks from Lorhaven!"

"Oranges, star fruit, dates and cherries!"

"Grosgrain from Floret!"

"Toys for sale!"

"Fr-esh fi-sh!"

Through the market square of Aurelius a river otter walked, barely playing attention to the vendors calling to the crowds as he followed the royal herald up the streets towards Palace Vasilis. As they went, he fussed with his appearance; slicking down his fur flat to his head and adjusting his uniform - a knee-length grey jerkin with silver trim, fitted together with a wide leather belt. Beneath the belt rested a dark blue sash, signifying his position as a commander, a first-mate, in the Mariner's Commission of Eutrusia.

"Did the Lord Admiral say what he wanted with me, mate?" the otter questioned the hedgehog as they followed the road upwards. "He had to have told ya why I needed fetching?"

"Nope," the herald replied. "I was just told t' get ya from the sailor barracks, and so I went 'n got ya from the sailor barracks."

"Ya didn't ask why?"

"Not my place t' question nobles, Commander – least of all Lord Admiral Raynen."

"But surely, he told ya why –"

The hedgehog slipped between two closely parked carts and snorted in annoyance as one of the corners caught on his green tunic. "Land's sake – er, no," he muttered and shot the mariner a hard glance. "All he said was to fetch Commander Jarentil, so fetching Commander Jarentil I went. End of story."

Still the sailor was not appeased. "But _how_ did he say it? Was mad 'r happy, 'r …"

"Spitting mad," the hog scoffed. "Throwin' chairs and slammin' goblets on tables. I think he called the axebeast –" he paused when Jarentil blanched under his fur and grew instant roots into the cobbles. "Seasons, Commander, I'm just jestin'. It's Admiral Raynen we're talkin' about, not some Eurian lord from Lysium – he was calm as ya like. Just c'mon and hurry up, he needs to talk to ya."

Jarentil puffed out his cheeks in a relieved exhale and padded after the messenger. "It must be for something important," he surmised, glancing side to side at the creatures going about their daily routines. "Normally, he'd just call a meeting at Saelmere Keep."

"Maybe he wants t' stay at the palace for a bit."

"You don't know Admiral Raynen very well, do ya mate?" Jarentil muttered under his breath and smirked for the first time since getting his summons. For the remainder of their journey, the two beasts were silent; speaking only when they reached the sentries at the southern portcullis of Palace Vasilis.

"Ah, great _you're_ back," the squirrel guard grumbled, rolling his eyes at the herald. "Look alive, lads – Captain Needles has returned!" Smiling at the snickers from the other guards and the exaggerate huff from the herald, the sentry extended his paw to the otter. "Afternoon, Jarry. What's brought you up to the palace, eh?"

"Oh, just a summons from the Admiral," Jarentil related and shook the guard's paw. "Haven't heard of any trouble brewing, have ya, Niall?"

The squirrel scratched his chin thoughtfully and let the haft of his halberd rest against his shoulder. "None that I can think of at the moment. The queen dispatched a sooty tern a day or so back and there's been a couple council meetings, but other than that – nothing important going on. Why? What do you know?"

"Nothing," Jarentil shrugged. "Just trying to figure out why I've been summoned, is all."

"Run up anymore Heranic debts?"

"Of course!" Jarentil laughed and clapped the squirrel on the shoulder. "But the Admiral ain't going to care 'bout that."

"He might if your claws start getting taken as payment."

"Ahem!" The herald cleared his throat loudly to break off the banter before directing Jarentil through the palace gates. "If you two are quite done, I need t' get Commander Jarentil delivered to the Council Chamber."

"Ya, ya, keep your spikes in," Niall jeered. "Have a good one, eh Jarry."

"Same to ya, Niall," Jarentil greeted and followed the hedgehog under the archway and into the vast cobbled courtyard of the palace. All around him the palace's marble walls gleamed to a soft golden hue and the leaded windows reflected the crisp blue sky above them. On the tops of the towers and along the points of the ramparts, the Eutrusian standard waved bold and true in the sea breeze; a golden scroll and shield crossed together over the center of the bright red flag. Although it was not his first time in the palace, the majesty of it all still instilled a sense of awe in the otter.

"This way, Commander," the herald instructed him and walked around the courtyard's center fountain towards the wide staircase leading to a pair of large gilded doors. "Ya can gawk around when ya leave."

"Yeah, right," Jarentil chortled, giving the fountain an extra wide berth as he keep his eyes focused on the rim. Coming around the west side of it, he saw the etched claw marks in the stone and the blacken patches marring its pristine surface. Despite the heat from the southern sun, Jarentil shivered at the chill which ran unannounced down his spine.

_"Back to bed or the ruspic will come back t' life and get ya!"_ he could still hear his old Nan yell up the loft ladder from his younger days as an upstart pup. _"It came once – they can come again!"_

"Commander Jarentil?" the hog beckoned from the stairs, breaking the otter away from his memories. "Are ya comin'?"

"Right away," he bumbled out, and shook his head at the fact he had unknowingly stopped to stare at the water feature. Trotting over to the steps, the otter bound up them with no encouragement. The fountain was one source of water the otter had no qualms over never getting close to.

* * *

"Ah, Commander Jarentil," Raynen greeted the mariner warmly once he had been announced and shown into the Council Chambers of Palace Vasilis. Looking up from where he leaned over a large map spread across the stone meeting table, Raynen smiled. "You got here quickly. Good work, Debban," he added to the herald.

"Thank-ya, m'lord," the herald beamed at the praise and bowed his way out the entrance. "Pleasure was mine."

With a flick of the admiral's wrist the footbeasts closed the double doors, leaving Jarentil alone in the room with his superior. Raynen gestured the otter forward and bent over the map again as he continued to measure out a distance with his divider and mark down coordinates on a sheet of papyrus.

"I apologize for the rushed summons, commander," Raynen offered as he plotted a course. "Please, take a seat – I'll be only a moment."

"Right y'are, m' Lord Admiral," Jarentil replied with a smart salute. Looking around the table, he easily identified the monarch's throne and ornate seats of the four Eutrusian barons of Nilhand, Eurus, Seldor and Wesrus, along with the chairs of the four states' stewards. Not wanting to be presumptuous, the mariner chose a modest place on an advisor bench while he watched the mouse about his task. It was an odd sight for Jarentil to not see Raynen in his fitted admiral's attire, but dressed in a lord's loose-fitting garb; as rich as the maroon fabrics of the mouse's tunic may have been, the clothing and silver lordship collar that slung about his shoulders was anything but practical for combat. Even his state rings and decorative vambraces would have hindered him in a skirmish, but then, Jarentil deduced, not many fights broke out in the Council Chambers.

"Is it your first time in the Council Chambers, Jarentil?" Raynen questioned, examining the map with particular scrutiny. "Have you ever been present for a meeting in Vasilis?"

"Erm, no," the otter confessed and fluttered his claws nervously on his knees. "Been in the Gallery once or twice for ceremonies, but never in any inner rooms."

"A little different from our meeting rooms at Saelmere, isn't it?" the admiral stated. Finally finished his work the mouse stretched up from his lean and stepped over to his seat at the foot of the great table overlooking the northern state of Eutrusia – into the chair of the Steward of Nilhand. "Though I am told they looked similar before the start of the Silver Age; but like everything during that time – things changed."

"So they say," Jarentil agreed and glanced about the room adorned with silver gilding, pearl accents and white motifs; it's delicate features contrasting with the strong stone table at which they were seated. The large polished surface beheld the carving of the entire kingdom on its tabletop, complete with the various land formations and prominent noble residences. For centuries the table had been the center for meetings of the realm and for nothing else but lack of strength to move the piece, it would remain so for centuries more. Looking at the nautical chart laid out over the plains of Eurus, Jarentil focused his thoughts on the reason for his attendance.

"So, erm, the herald said ya need to see me right away, admiral?"

"Yes," Raynen said and lounged back further into the cushions of his chair. "Tell me, Jarentil; how long have you been a first mate?"

"I've served you for almost a year now, m'lord," the mariner replied with a proud square of his shoulders. "Then it's been … well, another ten seasons under your father, Admiral Rayley, before he took up the northern stewardship."

"And you've overseen how many voyages?"

"Six," Jarentil responded. "Two down to the Clawling Isles and then over to Southsward at Floret, Constillion and Carminack."

"Have a liking for southern waters do you?" Raynen winked and pushed the map closer to the commander with the tip of his foreclaw. "Ever sailed north?"

Jarentil looked down at the chart and popped his eyes momentarily at the depictions drawn on the parchment. It was the mainland. The northern mainland.

"Erm, not that far. No. Not nearly that far, admiral."

"Well, it's time you learnt to sail with your compass arrow then!" Raynen mused, his gray eyes twinkling at the surprised expression on the otter's face. Pointing out the mountainous regions of the area, he furthered, "It would seem Her Majesty Queen Cyrene has decided we are in need of a new mastersmith here in Eutrusia. She has a great desire to commission a work to be given as a gift to the Badger Lords of Salamandastron, and apparently has no smith qualified to forge something as grand as what she proposes be made."

"What that done have to do with me?" Jarentil questioned, sitting straight on his bench.

The admiral watched the otter for a moment; placing his elbows on the armrests, Raynen steepled his fingers and tapped his foreclaws to his lips in thought. After a short duration, he said simply, "You are going to go get our new mastersmith."

"M-me?" Jarentil stammered. "Er, admiral, shouldn't that be done by an important beast such as yarself?"

"Possibly," he relented, running a paw over his face and yawning. "But I'm exhausted from the sea battle down by Irgash where we engaged the seascum – as is the rest of _Dewrder's_ crew and most of the mariners for that matter. We need a rest from our posts for a bit."

"But I –" Jarentil started and then noted the weariness lining the mouse's features. "I – I am honoured, admiral," he relented and bowed his head, pushing his anxiety aside. In truth it was an honour. There were nine other Mariner Commanders the admiral could have chosen and he was the one selected to lead the mission. Looking back up, he asked, "When do I leave?"

"Altair was dispatched two days ago with a missive for the new smith," Raynen related. "He will deliver the message to this – Mastersmith Jessop of Eustrus – and rendezvous with you at these tall rocks off the north head. You have a week to prepare your ship and crew and then it's about a twenty-four day voyage to land.

"It is far from the northern kingdom, I know," he continued at an inquisitive look from the otter, "but the waters are treacherous in the north and there are no ports known to us. You'll have to weigh anchor here and let them come to you."

"Eustrus, ya say?" Jarentil inquired. "Rumours say the northern realm fell – the creatures froze up the big cat. What makes ya think this Jessop stuck around?"

"He may not have, but in a land of ice, snow and mountains, where would he have gone?" Raynen said matter-of-factly, taking the sheet of coordinates and handing it to the commander. "Besides, if he's not still at Eustrus – Altair will find him."

"Yes, the Ol' Soot be good at that," Jarentil guffawed and folded the papyrus to fit in his jerkin pocket. "Why not get one of those smithies from Southsward? We're already allied with them."

"Her Majesty is set on her decision," Raynen affirmed. "The mouse is from an old line of smiths that worked under the fabled King Mortspear. As hideous a beast as he was said to be, the wildcat made these mice use their craft to forge many grand things. The queen has heard of their talents from traders and so naturally, she wants to employ one of them here in Eutrusia."

The otter nodded, inwardly rolling his eyes. _Royals_.

"Which ship am I taking, admiral?"

"_Gyflym_," Raynen replied without hesitation. "She's light and will be easy for you to manoeuvre in the northern waters. Fast too, should you run into any corsairs; although Captain Connor is organizing a lieutenant and a contingent of Royal Guards to accompany you on the journey."

"Right," Jarentil chirped and bounced up to this footpaws when Raynen rose and begun rolling the chart up for the otter. "I'll make see it's done proper, m'Lord Admiral."

"I'm sure you will," Raynen simpered and passed over the rolled map. "For Eutrusia, commander."

"For Eutrusia!" the otter echoed and snapped a salute. "Is there anything else ya need from me?"

Raynen drew in a long breath and exhaled long and low. "No, Jarentil. You're dismissed."

Without a word, the mariner bent at his hip to perform a bow and then turned sharp on his heel to stride from the chambers. Just as Jarentil reached the doors, the footbeasts opened them and as he exited, a herald slipped through the frame.

"A message for you, Lord Admiral," the squirrel announced and bobbed a silver salver up in his paws. "From Caerhayes Palace."

_Does it ever stop?_ Raynen wondered and waved the herald forward. "When did it arrive?"

"Just now, m'lord."

The admiral nodded and took the sealed missive from his paws. Flipping the parchment over, Raynen sighed when he saw the wax bearing the signet of a mountain and sword: the crest of the Steward of the North. His father.

"What now?" Raynen muttered under his breath and broke the seal with the dagger from his belt, flicking the parchment open with the practiced ease of a noble born creature. The note was short and to the point, adding urgency to the meaning.

_Raynen,  
__Family troubles. You are needed at home.  
__Your father,  
__Rayley_

_Rhys_, Raynen thought instantly and tucked the letter in his jerkin. Walking briskly to the doors, Raynen exited the Council Chamber on his way to find the queen and let her know of his summons home.

* * *

Night was dark and quiet over Redwall Abbey; the stars veiled and the new moon had not yet risen in the sky despite the lateness of the hour. No torchlight spotted the ramparts, no movement cut through the darkness. They had no use for wall patrols anymore or night watches. Everything was at peace. Everybeast was seemingly asleep on the warm spring night- the only sign of life was a soft glow coming from a small window in the dormitory wing.

A lone candle burned on a low bedside table where a single mouse lay looking at papers held in each of his paws. A small folio was open on his chest, as one by one he took the little drawings in his paws and held them up to the light. It was a routine he did almost nightly to ensure he would not forget them. Ever. He could play the nursemaid to the Dibbuns all he liked, teaching them to crawl, walk and even say their first words; but they still would never replace his true family in his heart.

_How was your day today, my little family,_ Martin thought as he looked at the drawings in his paws depicting Lily and Matthias. _Did you play and get into lots of trouble?_

Smiling, Martin looked at the still faces of the two mice grinning at each other while they played by the fire; Lily and Matthias. He could almost hear them laughing together if he closed his eyes. They wouldn't have been little anymore; Lily would have been an adult now and Matthias not far behind, but to him, they remained frozen in their childhood state – forever his little children.

Taking a deep sigh, Martin put down one of the drawings and picked up the next one on the pile; a sketch of Rose under a willow tree tickling a little mouseling's belly – Matthias as a babe. Martin let out a proud huff as he observed them and touched her cascading headfur with a clawtip, as if he were brushing a loose strand from her face.

"Ah, my beautiful Rose," Martin whispered into the stillness. "There you are."

For a few moments he lay there looking at the picture and memorizing again every contour of her face and curve of her body. His paws ached to touch her again, to feel the softness of her fur and smell the scent of roses on her headfur. His lips longed to kiss her… all of her. More and more as the seasons drifted by he yearned for her; spring when she would have been most fertile, summer when it was so hot at night clothes were not an option, fall when the fires started crackling again in the grates and the new cider was ready for tasting, and winter when the wind blew cold against the shuttered windows he longed to pull her close and warm up her body with his. Eight seasons since he saw her last and yet time had not diminished his desire for her and not just for their intimacy; he missed her smile, her laughter – just the simple comfort of her presence around him. He missed their home and waking up beside her, the way she made him feel complete. But at least she was safe and away from war and death; she and their children were protected, and that what was important. Not his happiness.

_"Sometimes you have to do what is right for your family. There is a difference between a warrior and a father, Martin. It's a slight one, but still a difference."_

The words of his grandsire's phantom echoed in his ears and gave him comfort. He understood the sage advice now that he had lived through it, no matter how hard it had been to come to grips with it.

"A warrior knows not how to pull back," Martin murmured to himself, "But a father – a father knows when to let go."

_"One day, young Martin, you will understand his choice." _Vurg's dying words meandered into his memory. _"One day you will have to decide between your own happiness and the safety of your family. That's what your father did. He choose to forsake his own happiness to ensure you would live another day. That is how much he loved you. That is what he gave his life doing- to keep the ones he loved safe." _

After a few moments, Martin laid down the page with the rest and pulled out the last piece. Emotions welled up in his chest. It was the family portrait Lily had drawn of them, of all of them; even his wraith-like image wisped in charcoal beside his loving wife. He smiled at his children, mouthing a 'hello' in greeting and touching both of them on the nose with the tip of his finger.

"I miss you all so much," he breathed and brought the picture to his lips and kissed each of them gently. "I wish I could be there with you, or you here with me, but the Fates are not so kind to us as they are others. Yet," he added wistfully, "I may see one of you again. One of you may come home and I'll be here waiting for you. Forever."

Looking at the depiction of Rose and himself, a mischievous grin etched the warrior's features.

"You know, my darling, there was room for at least one more there in the middle," Martin smirked and tapped the vacant spot between Lily and Matthias. "We could have made at least one more mouseling. I wonder what it would have been like –"

There was a harsh bang on the door interrupting Martin's thoughts and he grimaced at the rough voice that followed it.

"Candles out, _Brother_ Martin!" the gruff voice of Brother Montrel sounded from the hallway. "You're up well past the curfew."

"I'm not tired, _Montrel_," Martin replied pointedly ignoring his appropriate address as _Brother_ since he had emphasised Martin's so much. "If curfew is so tight, why are you still up?"

"Your light is keeping me up!"

"You mean to tell me a single candle burning, its light squeezing a sliver below my door, across a ten beast span hallway and through whatever gap is under your door is keeping you up?" Martin countered. "Montrel, you need a hobby."

"Candles out, Martin, or I will have Mother Abbess take them away from you and then we'll see how you respect a curfew."

"No problem there," Martin snapped and blew out the flame in a mighty huff. Forgetting the loose sleeves in the open folio, Martin leaped from the bed, snatched the candle from its holder and rolled it under the door while the drawings waved down to the floor around him. "I've been kept in darker places by greater beasts than you, Montrel; take the candle and stuff it up your habit."

"Brother Martin!" was the gasped reply.

"Quiet, Montrel!" Martin growled back, gathering up the papers. "Now _I'm_ trying to sleep."

Martin gave a disapproving snort when he heard the brother stride across to his chamber and close the door. Slowly, Martin gathered up all the pages in the dark, counting them to make sure he had them all before setting them blindly in the folio, carefully folding over the leather jacket and tying the strings.

"Well, now I can't kiss each of you goodnight," Martin muttered crossly as he pulled out a satchel from under his bed and stuffed the folio to the bottom before putting back in its hiding place. Flopping down on the straw mattress Martin sighed and rubbed his sore shoulder. It ached almost constantly now, but he bore it lightly. To him, it was his daily reminder that he must always keep his family safe. Wiggling deeper into the stuffing, Martin exhaled again and closed his eyes.

_Goodnight my beautiful darling,_ Martin said in his mind as if willing his thoughts to travel across land to where his own little family would have been dreaming in their slumber. _Pleasant dreams on this fair night. Don't forget to dream of me- I'll meet you by the orchards._

_And sweet dreams, my little Lil. May your slumber be sound and free of nightmares._

_And Matty, get under those covers and close your eyes! Be a good lad and go to sleep and I'll show you more swordplay in the morning. Just don't tell your Mama._

_Goodnight, my family with all my love,_ Martin smiled and rolled over to hug his pillow as if it were Rose. _And to all our other dreams that might have been, but couldn't be, goodnight. Your Daddy loves you, too._

* * *

**Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! This is where things get tricky, because originally, _The Red Prince_ would have covered a lot of the politics and make-up of Eutrusia. For those of you who did read that epic before I took it off the archive will probably find it easy to follow, but I did try to include as much info as I could without it being info-dumpy. Anyway, I'd love to hear some comments on it (by both people who had read TRP and by those who hadn't) so I know if I need to clarify things in future chapters - so please... REVIEW. :)**


	7. Chapter 6

**Special thanks going out to my reviewers of the last chapter: Redwallfreak108, MrDill and minkspit. :D**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

A single chirp from a distant bird, a sliver of lighten sky and Marcena's blue eyes popped open to the morning before her. Instantly awake, the little maiden threw off her blankets and slipped off her bed to the floor, dragging with her a tiny doll and blanket. Tip-toeing past her sleeping sister, the Princess of Mischief opened the door of their chamber and padded her way out into the darkness of the main room, her nightgown trailing behind her.

Embers glowed a dull orange in the hearth, emulating the area's only light to silhouette the objects around her as she manoeuvred around the furniture. She was almost at the kitchen when the shadow swallowing their dining table snorted, grumbled in his sleep and muttered something incoherent. A moment later, it twitched and a scroll tumbled off the wood onto to the floor.

"Silly, Matty," she guffawed with her blanket and doll clutched in her paws. "A-sleepin' at the table again."

Carefully, she crept over to her brother and gazed at the array of parchments laid out around him and the snuffed out candles. She knew he had been reading some of Lily's translations in search of some sort of spear name, but it was the fourth night that week he'd fallen asleep doing it. Whatever it was he was looking for, it must have been awfully important to him.

"I'll cover you up, Matty," she cooed and reached up her blanky as high as she could on his back – which in truth came up just below his shoulder blades. "There. All comfy cozy."

She gave his paw a motherly pat and turned to make her way to the kitchen once more; taking four steps away before spinning around with a whirl of her nightgown skirts and trotting up to him again. Flopping her doll up on the table top and pushed it up against his arm cradling his head.

"In case you get lonely, Matty," she whispered and backed away from him once more. "I'll be back."

Slipping into the kitchen, Marcena pulled over a corner stool to the door and climbed aboard to unbolt the upper hatch. It bewildered the maiden that her mother insisted on locking the doors in such a peaceful village as Noonvale; especially when they had brave beasts like Lis and Ratherwood there to protect them against the shadows beyond the borders which Rose fretted about so much. But then Marcena never worried about such things – not when she had Matthias' promise to always keep her safe.

Her task complete, Marcena pounced off the stool and pulled it aside to swing the door open. Grabbing a pail by the hemp handle, the little mousemaid pulled it across the floorboards and out into the growing light. She had not gone ten paces from the kitchen door, hauling her quarry with both paws, when she heard him.

"Now, tiny lassie –" Lis' strong voice chuckled from the morning mist. "What in Noonvale's green grass are you doing outside this early in the morning?" Appearing from under a low hanging oak branch, he shook his head at the scene. "And in your nightgown no less!"

"Fetchin' water," Marcena chirped and hefted the pail closer to her body. "I wanna surprise Mama by showin' her what a big maiden I am!"

"Oh, I'm sure she'll be surprised alright," he snickered and shuffled forward without his cane. "In two shakes of your tail she's going be calling for you and frantic."

"Nat-uh," Marcena grinned and pointed to the gaping door. "I left it open so she would see I'm right here."

"Right, like that's going to make her squawk any less," he winked and knelt down on one knee before her. Letting out a muffled grunt, he gave her a half smile to cover up his grimace. "You should still be in bed little one."

"But I'm not tired –" she started and then let her eyes wander to the sword hilts protruding from above his shoulders. Looking down at his waist, Marcena let her jaw drop slightly at the sharp points tipping through their scabbards.

"Lis," she gasped. "You're gonna get in deep trouble for havin' those big knives. Big trouble – like Matty gets in from Uncle Brome."

"Aye, I would if I got caught, tiny lassie," he smirked and tapped her gently on the nose. "But no beast is going to see me with these, so don't you go worrying your pretty little head about it."

"But why are you wearin' them?" she questioned, leaning to the side in order to get a better look at them. "Where did you get them?"

Lis glanced from side to side and brought his face up to hers, his eyes twinkling. "Can you keep a secret, lassie?" he uttered in an excited whisper. Marcena's own eyes sparkled with excitement and clutched the hemp handle of the bucket tighter in her paws.

"Yes!" she breathed. "What is it?"

"I was fighting a _Whatsit."_

"A Whatsit?" Marcena posed and furrowed her brow in thought. "What's a … _Whatsit?"_

"A terrible creature," Lis related and pushed himself back upright. "Wings like a bird, a body of a badger and teeth twice as long as any adder." Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. "But it's a _Whatsit's _paws that really make it horrible – they're webbed like a sea otter and large as, well, as large as a wildcat's!"

"Oh!" she squealed, but stood her ground. "What's it do?"

"Swoops in during the night and steals the sweet dreams from Dib- er, young ones like yourself," Lis informed her. "A _Whatsit_ flies in on its wings and scoops up the dreams with its massive paws, then – _chomp!_ It gobbles it up whole and the poor mite is left without its pleasant dream."

"That's awful!" Marcena gulped. "How did you fight it?"

"Well, I just said – '_Whatsit. You go away from here and leave Marcena's dreams alone. Or else!' –_ And then I pulled my swords from their scabbards and crossed them before me like so." Lis paused to make the gesture. "It glared at me for a moment and then huffed off into the night; not many beasts are going to tangle up with me, lassie – even lame as I am."

"But what if it comes back?"

"Why do you think I'm still lurking about, Marcena?" Lis chuckled. _"Whatsits_ can only come around at night – they turn to stone in the daylight, you see – so I'll stick around until the sun comes up."

"Is that why Ratherwood sits in that big tree over there sometimes?" she asked and pointed to the oak where Lis appeared from. "Sometimes I see him in the mornings."

"Right you are," Lis affirmed. "We're protecting you from the _Whatsits."_

Marcena dropped her bucket and flung herself at the fighter. Wrapping her arms around his leg, she hugged him with all her might. "Thank-you for savin' my dreams!" she cried while holding him tight. "You must be really brave."

"Anytime, tiny lass," Lis soothed and stroked her headfur. Gently, he removed the maiden from his leg and picked up the bucket for her. "Now," he said in a soft tone. "I have an idea. Why don't you gather up a few of those wildflowers there for your Mama and I will fill up the pail for you?"

"And some for 'Detty!" she piped and immediately trotted over to the grasses where patches of daisies, bluebells and marigolds coloured the morning shadows. "She's takin' me cherry pickin' today and I can give some flowers to her as a thank-you!"

"I'm sure she'll love that," Lis simpered at the mention of Matthias amour. "You two aren't going to watch the 'vane hoisting?"

Marcena twisted back at him and made a face. "That's male stuff."

Lis could only shake his head at her expression as he strode the remaining score of paces to the stream and dipped the bucket down to let the current fill the bucket with water. "Not necessarily," Lis put in and lifted the pail up once more. "It's kinda a big deal for the valley."

"So's Mama's cherry cobbler," Marcena sniped and rolled her eyes. "She needs to make it for Byron's feast. Now, _that_ is a big deal."

The fighter acquiesced and watched over her in silence while she gathered her flowers; his eyes constantly perusing the trees and ears flicking at the slightest sounds. Twice he heard an odd waver on the breeze and made to reach for a sword, disguising the movement as a stretch whenever Marcena happened to look his way. Within no time, the little maiden filled her paws with flowers and together they began walking back to the cottage.

"Lis?" Marcena broached when they were almost at the threshold. "Do you and Ratherwood protect all of Noonvale from the _Whatsits?"_

"Not a chance," he grinned, "Only your family – because you're all special."

"But what about the other families?" she insisted. "Don't they need their dreams protected, too?"

"Aye, but they – well, they've got their fathers to watch out for the _Whatsits."_

She went quiet for a moment and stared at the bluebells in her paws. "We don't have a father," she huffed with a slight shrug. "He's away fighting in a secret war."

Lis exhaled slowly and tried to find the right words. "Aye, lassie, he is. A right regular hell he is, too. But I know he loves you all very much and probably thinks of you every day."

"That's what Mama says," she replied, her voice chipper and full of hope and wonder. "When she tucks me in at night, she says – 'Mama and Daddy love you very much' – and then she kisses me twice on the head and blows out the candle.

"Matty tells me one day he'll come home for us," she continued, enthusiasm rising in her tone. "And Lily says he loves us too much to stay away forever – and I hope not. Forever is an awfully long time!"

"That it is, Marcena," Lis chortled and opened the door of the stream cottage wide for the little mousemaid. "Here's your water, lassie." He plunked the bucket down on the floorboards just inside the door. "And don't forget to put those blooms in a cup."

"Okay, Lis," she said with a bobble of her head, her waving headfur fanning out around her. "I won't."

He nodded his own acknowledgement and pulled the bottom half of the Dutch door closed. "And remember, Marcena. The _Whatsits_ are our little secret."

"Uh-huh," she agreed and brought a paw to her lips to twist the imaginary lock at the center. At her compliance, Lis gave her a broad smile and waved himself off to return to his post. The sky was beginning to lighten further and he could smell hearth fires being stirred. He need to get back to the oak tree to discard his weapons before he was seen wearing them. As he walked, he pricked his ears at a metallic tapping sound echoing softly off the tree leaves.

"Oh, and Marcena?" Lis called and twisted sideways to glance at the doorway. There was a shuffling noise and then the next moment, her little snout appeared over the half door. "Go wake up your brother. He's late for working on the roof. Again."

She made not a word, but disappeared from sight and the next moment he heard her loud and clear over the stirrings of dawn:

"Wake-up, wake-up, _wake-up!_ Matty, Lis says _wake-up!"_

* * *

"Marcey, hold still!" Lily laughed as she tried to braid the little maiden's headfur while Marcena sat on the edge of the table swinging her tiny footpaws in the long folds of her gown. Rose looked up from where she was cleaning off the remainder of their breakfast and chuckled.

"Marcena, stop fidgeting," Rose clucked at her. "The stiller you are, the quicker Lily will be done with your braids."

"Hurry, Lily-Lil!" Marcey sighed and put both her paws on her knees to still their swinging movement as if they were not part of her body, but had a mind all their own. "I can't be late."

"Late for what?" Lily snickered and pulled the two braids together into the middle to tie off the maiden's long headfur with a wide silk ribbon.

"Oh-no, Lily-Lil!" Marcey cried, wiggling away from her sister. "My blue ribbon, not my purple one."

"But you're wearing a purple dress!" Lily said in exasperation and picked up the blue silk strand, waving it to her sister to prove she would use it. Motioning for Marcey to turn around again, Lily took up the two braids and tied them together in a wide bow.

"But my gown has blue trim!" Marcey pointed out and lifted her sleeve to show the scrolling embroidery Rose had stitched into the fabric. "See."

"Oh, Marcey," Lily said, shaking her head at the little one; her sister was always aware of every detail. "You never did answer me where you think you are in a hurry to go to."

"Picking cherries with 'Detty," Marcey smiled and jumped off the table. "She asked me yesterday if I could help her and I said yes!"

Twirling around, Marcey held her skirts wide and looked up at her mother. "Mama, how do I look?"

"Pretty as a flower, Marcey," Rose said happily, walking over to her daughter and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "Mind your manners with Adette and listen to what she says. And remember," she furthered in an authoritative voice. "I need only the biggest, brightest, reddish cherries to make the best cobbler!"

"Yes, Mama," Marcey nodded and grabbed her little basket before slipping out of the little cottage singing softly to herself. "Buzz, buzz, buzz, all the bees are a-buzz…"

Rose chuckled and waved her off from the doorway before turning back into the cottage to see Lily stuffing her folio and parchment into a rough, brown satchel.

"And where are you going today?" Rose inquired, picking up Matthias' discarded jerkin off the back of a chair and sighing at the rips and bloodstains from his efforts on the lodge roof. Besides gaining a pawful of swollen fingers, Matthias had earned himself numerous tin scratches and edge cuts from his impatience with the roofing material.

"I'm going to watch the weathervane go up," Lily informed and continued about her packing. "Jonas said they would be putting it up today."

"Oh, he did, did he?" Rose mused and gave Lily a sly look. "When did he tell you that?"

"Last night when he …" Lily said without a thought and then stopped herself. Blushing deeply, she fumbled with the satchel's ties and battled a freshly twisted tongue. "I mean, he … I … I mean, we … that is –"

"Lily?"

"Jonas walked me home after I was done helping Uncle Brome with some texts," Lily blurted out. "He had just finished up with the roofing … it was just from Council Lodge to home, we only talked …"

"It's alright, Lily," Rose chuckled. "You're old enough to have a courtship."

"A c-c-courtship?" Lily stammered and blushed again. "Mama, you can't be serious – we're only friends."

"Well, what did you think it is?" Rose laughed and continued tidying the main room. "You two have been getting awfully close since the fall when you asked him to make that little copper crown for Marcey's doll. Ever since then, I always see the two of you talking together. Come to think about it, you're the _only_ maiden I ever see Jonas conversing with."

"He's talks to others," Lily relented, "Just not a lot. He's … private."

"And you don't think it means anything that Jonas talks more to you than any others?" her mother jested and laid a folded blanket across the back of her chair. "That it could mean something more – not even a little bit?"

"I'm not sure," Lily sighed and looped the satchel over her shoulder so it sat across her body.

"Hmmm," Rose hummed and raised an eyebrow at the maid. "That's your good green gown, isn't it?"

"I, um…"

"Hurry up, Lily," Rose breathed as she watched the heat rise from Lily's cheeks to her ears for the third time that morning. "You look lovely. I'm sure Jonas will be happy to see you there."

"It's not just for Jonas that I'm going," Lily said defensively. "I promised Matty I would – and afterward we are going to search the Noonvale archives again for that wildcat named Mortspear."

"Oh, I see," Rose said and tried to hide her smile.

"No, Mama, really, it's not…"

"I know, Lily."

"No, it's just…"

"Lily?"

"Yes, Mama?"

"It is okay to develop feelings for somebeast," Rose assured her and cupped her daughter's cheek with a gentle paw. "It's okay to fall in love.

"I know you've avoided it for a long time," Rose confessed and took Lily by the paws. "I know that's why you stay so busy with your own interests and helping me around the cottage – which believe me, I've needed it raising Matthias and Marcena – but perhaps it's time you started looking towards your own life's future."

Releasing Lily's paws, Rose turned away so her daughter couldn't see the pain in her eyes as she pretended to busy herself with the tidying once more.

"Love doesn't always come in with a fanfare, it's not always glittering and gold," she prattled. "Sometimes it comes dirty and full of grit from a mole hole in tattered clothes and whipping scars. It could be the last beast in this world you expect to fall for, and then one day, you look at him and realize he's a hero standing before you and out of all the creatures around, you're the only one he sees.

"Love comes in unexpected places, Lily, at unexpected times," Rose breathed. "Let it grow where it may and cherish it while you can." Gyrating back around to Lily once more, she sighed and flapped her arms wide in a defeated gesture. "Don't shut out the idea of love because some were not fortunate to hold their love for long. It's the greatest feeling and I hope you will find it for yourself. Don't be afraid to open your heart, Lily – not everybeast ends up hurt."

Lily bit her lip when a single tear trickled down Rose's face and she inhaled a shuddering breath. Not knowing what to say, Lily nodded and padded her way quietly to the door. Pausing with her paw over the latch, she looked back at her mother and gave her a weak smile.

"I won't be afraid, Mama," she promised. "I just need to find the one who proves to me they'll do the one thing I wish for."

Rose's ears pricked in curiosity. "And what is that, Lily?"

"They have to be there," Lily whispered as she slipped through the doorway, "Be through anything. And never let me go."

Rose watched Lily trot up the hill towards Council Lodge from the window for a few moments before letting out a deep sigh and setting down her things on the table. Silently, she walked down the short hallway to her small chamber, opening her chest at the end of her bed and taking out a worn red cloak. Rose rubbed her paws over the familiar texture of the fabric and smiled as dampness welled to her eyes. Pulling the curtains of her window closed and shutting her door, Rose flung the cloak over her shoulders before curling into a ball on her bed.

"Not every beast ends up hurt," Rose whispered to herself in her homemade darkness. Pulling the hood up over her head, Rose allowed herself only two tears before she took a deep breath and inhaled the faint smell of mint soap and crisp Ninian's Cider. She smiled at the familiar scents, whether they were truly real or her own imagination, she didn't care; if she concentrated hard enough, she could feel him snuggle into her back and pull her tighter to him by her waist. With the hood up, her breaths circulated back into the fabric and it was like his hot breath on the back of her neck as he nuzzled into her thick headfur. Rose let out a slight giggle as she imagined him kiss her softly below her ear.

"Not every beast ends up hurt," Rose repeated and closed her eyes so she could see his brave face smiling at her from where he leaned against warm sandstone walls. "And no matter how much it hurts, love will never die. Nothing will ever take our love away.

"I love you, Martin," Rose said in a barely audible whisper, smiling as she imagined him stand up straight and open his strong arms to her. "I will love you for all of the rest of my days."

* * *

Lily hurried her way up the path and quickly found Lis leaning on his cane watching Ratherwood, Keyla and Marty helping Matthias, Jonas and Jessop haul up the heavy iron structure to the top of the roof. As usual, the retired fighter was standing off to the side by a heather brush, minding his own business while carefully observing the growing audience. Quietly, they squared off into their factions in a seemingly nonchalant manner; but when all was said and done, her Uncle Brome and most of the long-standing Noonvallian families stood to the right of the entrance path, while Keldon and the remaining villagers occupied the left.

It was a silent tension that had been growing steadily over the past eight seasons ever since Brome refused Keldon's insistence that Matthias and his 'red eyes' be taken away from Rose; the council Elder wanted Matthias placed in the care of males who could control him should his violent behaviour strum up again, and ensure he 'safe' around the villagers. Yet, that had been just the start of their doubts in Brome's leadership. A failed harvest, a store-house fire and a collapsed Council Lodge roof had aided in their grumblings, despite circumstances being beyond Brome's control. Kastern's eventual birthing of Byron helped relieve some pressure now that he had a male heir, but still their grumbling hung over him like cloud.

Squeezing herself through the gathering, Lily caught sight of Tulla standing beside Tullgrew with a sour look on his face as he huffed and pulled at the sling holding his broken arm to his body. He had broken it almost three weeks ago when he fell off the _Waterlily_ while visiting Starwort and his holt. Simple as the fall had been, he had hit a rock and cracked his forearm. Lily giggled at the frustration etched his face and waved to him. Tulla returned the wave, giving an exaggerated sigh as Tullgrew smiled at him and patted his shoulder.

"Galada minluna," Lily whispered to Lis as she came up beside him. _Good morning._

"Galada minluna, mit flon," the fighter replied, smiling at her Wardswich diction. _Good morning, little flower._

"You seem to be missing a shadow this morning, Lily?" Lis asked in plain language, winking at Lily as they received a few sideways stares at their use of Wardswich. "Marcena went to the orchards, did she?"

"Picking cherries with Adette," Lily grinned and then furrowed her brow in thought. "Wait – how did you know that?" He just waved off her question and she didn't press the matter. "Anyways, picking cherries is apparently much more exciting than the rise of a weathervane."

"The tiny lass may be right," Lis snorted. "They're moving it slower than your Mama's honey on a winter's day."

"Are they having problems getting it up there?" Lily chuckled as she watched the males grunting and huffing in their exertion.

"I think Jessop was a little over zealous in his creation," Lis smirked. "Don't worry, little lassie. Your brother is determined to have this project behind him. By nothing else but his sheer stubbornness, that 'vane will sit atop that roof by mid-day!"

Lily laughed and hooked her paws around the satchel's shoulder strap as she watched weathervane slowly rise toward the apex of the lodge. Once they had muscled it up to the ridgepole, the onlookers all cheered their efforts. Lily put her paws to her lips, making a loud whistle before raising her paw to wave up at roofers.

Hearing the whistle, Jonas looked down and saw Lily clapping her paws above her head. A smile came to his face and he blushed to think her applause was for him, taking his paw off the rope and giving a timid wave back to her.

"Jonas!" Jessop snapped as the weathervane shifted from the loss of his strength and Matthias was pulled forward before setting his footpaws and hauling it back. "What are you doing, lad?"

"Grabbing my hammer," Jonas stammered out quickly and crimsoned further, causing Ratherwood to raise an eyebrow as he followed the apprentice smith's line of vision and saw Lily standing below.

"Just watch which hammer you're referring to there, Jonas," Ratherwood simpered with a knowing smirk.

"Ratherwood!" Matthias growled in effort and slipped in his loss of concentration. "What are you talking about?"

"Jonas is waving to Lily!" Marty laughed and slapped his tail on the roof before getting a stern look from Keyla.

"Lily? Jonas?" Matthias gaped and then turned a sharp eye at the blushing mouse. "Jonas, that is _my sister!_ What are you doing over there? Ratherwood, what is he –"

"Don't worry about it, Matthias!" Ratherwood affirmed and pulled hard on his rope when he felt the weathervane begin to slip. "Listen you two smiths, this thing isn't going to attach itself…"

"Jonas, get hammering," Jessop grunted as he helped Keyla fit the structure on its groove on the ridgepole. "Matthias, stop pulling and just hold the rope tight…"

Slowly, Jonas worked his way around the weathervane, securing the heavy metal with clasps and hinges hammered into the roof. When he crossed under Ratherwood, he blushed at old fighter's smirk, which caused Matthias to give him a hard glance once he got to him. Hammering the last clip into place, Jonas straightened up and held his hammer-paw up in victory.

"There, that has it!" he crowed and wiggled the south arm to check its security. "You can all let go now. It's not going anywhere."

"Congratulations!" Brome yelled from below as the six males clapped each other on the shoulders and clasped paws. "It's wonderful. Masterful work, Jessop!"

"I thank-you," Jessop beamed and clasped Jonas on the shoulder. "But the weathervane is Jonas' work, not mine."

There was a light round of applause from the onlookers and one by one the group descended the ladder to the ground once more.

"My compliments to you, Jonas," Brome nodded when he came up in front of the pair of smiths. "You have truly left your stamp on Noonvale now. Now, whenever we, or any other in future generations, look upon our great Lodge, they will all know that Jonas the Smith crafted our figurehead."

Jonas popped his eyes at the title and Brome gave him a friendly jeer in the ribs. "I hardly think we can call you an apprentice anymore, Jonas, after that masterful work you've done."

"Thank-you," Jonas said giving a slight bow and throwing Lily a sheepish glance. Had she heard the chieftain's praise? Had she heard _all _of the villagers admirations as they gazed up at the weathervane and pointed, marvelling at the details and scope of the piece? Pride filled his chest and his mind reeled with Brome's commendation; being thanked for the odd trinket he'd commissioned was one thing, but to publicly acknowledge by an important beast such as the valley's leader … it was, nice.

"So," Matthias chirped as he swaggered up between the smiths and his uncle. "Since we're done the roof …"

"… Your punishment is over, Matthias," Brome relented, much to his chagrin when his nephew gave him a cocky smile. He couldn't help but shake his head at the young mouse. He was now looking up at Matthias. Had he really grown taller in the week since he had last stood in front of him?

Not gracing a beast with so much as a goodbye, Matthias wheeled around, bobbing and weaving through the crowd before sprinting off down the path towards the wooded glades.

"Matthias, where are you going?" Brome called after him, a look of utter confusion marring his features.

"For a run!" Matthias yelled over his shoulder. "And then - _fishing!"_

"Your family must eat a lot of fish," Jonas remarked as he walked up to Lily after Lis hobbled off with Ratherwood in the same direction Matthias sped off to. "Your brother is always fishing."

"And he always comes home with a catch," Lily smiled proudly. Looking up at the roof, she nodded to the weathervane. "It's beautiful work, Jonas. What is the figurehead?"

"The north star," Jonas replied, looking up at it with alongside her for a brief moment and then shifting his gaze back to her. He could hardly believe she really come to see his achievement.

"Why the north star?"

"For consistency," he responded without hesitation. "It never moves; it's always in the same place in the sky, always there – right where you put it."

Lily's body tensed at the words and she bit her lip. Mustering her courage, she looked at him and saw he was staring back at her, their bodies close, but still a respectable distance from one another. He said not another word, nor did she make a motion to speak until the realization that others were watching them made her cheeks warm with a blush.

"Erm, I had better go," she mumbled out and pulled tensely on her satchel strap. "Matthias, seems to have forgotten we were to go to the archives together, but I can look for things on my own."

"Do you need any help?" Jonas offered.

"Oh, no!" Lily exclaimed and stepped backwards. "I wouldn't want to trouble you and well, its just a trivial thing anyways."

"Ah," he conceded and reached out to grasp her paw. "Lily," Jonas started, holding her clawtips lightly, "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow … when I walk you to Byron's feast?"

Again, she bit her lip and could only muster a nod. Reluctantly, Jonas relinquished her paw and took a step back.

"Until tomorrow then."

"Yes," Lily breathed, her mind too full of thoughts to respond properly. "Until tomorrow."

* * *

_**IF YOU READ IT, PLEASE REVIEW** **IT!** _


	8. Chapter 7

**Sorry, everyone. I thought I posted this Thursday morning before I went away for the weekend, but I guess I didn't. Oops!**

**Anyways, thanks to Lady Storm, MrDill, minkspit and Redwallfreak108 for reviewing the last chapter! You guys rock!**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"We're going to Byron's birthday, we're going to Byron's birthday," Marcey chanted as she skipped around the little cottage while her family was getting ready. Happily, the little maid twirled her way towards the table to peak her nose over the top, staring at the small gift waiting on the worn pine with a series of cherry cobblers.

"What do you think of the present, Marcey?" Rose smiled as she came out of her bedchamber. Standing before the oval looking glass, she carefully pinned up her headfur and pinched at her cheeks to give colour. "Do you think Byron will like it?"

"It's not very big," Marcey sighed, turning and watching her mother adjusting her appearance. Spying her Gramama Aryah's favourite silver platter displayed on the sideboard with their good tea set, the little maiden looked at her own reflection on the polished surface and pinched her own cheeks in mimic.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed and rubbed the sides of her face. "Mama, why do you do that – it hurts!"

"Oh, Marcey," Rose chided gently and motioned for them to both take a seat by the fire. "Let me fix your headfur, darling, and then we need to get going."

"But, Mama – the present!" she squeaked; her original trepidation resurfacing once more. "What if it's the smallest one there?"

"It's the thought that counts, Marcena," Rose stressed as she took her seat and patted the stool in front of her. "Byron likes games he can play quietly. He will like a jack set."

"Are you sure? It's still awful small."

"Smallest gifts are the best!" Matthias laughed, coming out of his room and picking up his little sister from behind in a great hug before she could make it to their mother. "That's why you're the best!"

"Matty!" Marcey giggled, kicking her little legs to be put down. "Lemme go!"

"Never!" Matthias swung her around the main room to make her squeal. Always, did he try to make her feel special whenever he could; always was he trying to make up for the figure she lacked. "You can't make me ever let you go!"

"I can tickle you!" Marcey threatened and started tickling Matthias under the chin; he immediately started chuckling and put her down.

"Aha! I got down, I got down!" Marcey beamed, jumping mockingly about in front of her brother.

"Oh, you two," Rose chuckled at them before throwing a wayward glance towards the chamber behind the hearth. "Lily, hurry up. We're going to be late!"

"Mama, why does Byron get a feast for his birthday?" Marcey asked. Pulling Rose's lute from beside the chair, the little maiden sat upon the stool and began plucking on the strings. "I didn't get a feast on my birthday."

Rose sighed and picked up her daughter's headfur to begin a braid. "No, but Byron is Uncle Brome's son. And a chieftain's son gets a feast."

"I'm a chieftain's sister's daughter," Marcey tried to reason. "And Gramama Aryah used to say I was a chieftain's daughter's daughter. Isn't that sorta the same thing as Byron?"

_No, you're better than that,_ Matthias thought strongly as he watched her making a tune with the lute._ You're a great warrior champion's daughter._

"Almost," Rose said softly. "But not quite, Marcey. Let's just have fun at the feast and not worry about who every beast is, alright?"

"Okay Mama," Marcey nodded. "Mama, are you going to sing for every beast tonight again like last time?"

"Only if they ask me to, Marcey."

"And can I sing with you?"

"If you like," Rose said smiling at her little daughter. Like Rose, Marcey loved music and relished in singing with her mother; which the two did splendidly together – especially, when they had a back-up baritone.

"And Matty will you sing?" Marcey inquired as she watched her brother adjust his gray tunic around his belt.

"Uh, no, Marcey," Matthias replied, a slight blush covering his cheeks. "Not in front of every beast."

"But you sing with Mama and I, Matty," Marcey argued. "I bet Detty would like it if you sang."

Matthias rolled his eyes at the mention. "I'm sure she would."

"Uh-huh," his sister chirped and clapped her tiny paws to her snout in a grand joke. "She thinks you're _handsome!"_

Despite all his resolve, Matthias gaped at his sister's revelation and felt a slight tingling in his paws and heat on his cheeks. Turning slightly, so she couldn't see his reaction – or rather his mother's keen eyes wouldn't catch – Matthias straightened out a stack of Lily's scrolls on the dining table.

"She does not," he yammered. "Where would you get a silly idea like that, Marcey?"

"Detty told me –"

"Now, Marcey, that's enough," Rose chided the little maiden, hiding her own smile as she watched the tips of Matthias' ears start to crimson. "Don't tell secrets."

"It's not a secret, Mama," she stated, twisting on the stool to look back at her mother. "She told me herself and didn't say nothing about keepin' it a secret."

"Marcena," Rose hushed and guided her forward again. "Just because Adette didn't _tell_ you it was a secret, doesn't mean she didn't _want_ it to be a secret."

The tiny maiden pondered the idea for a moment, strumming her paws along the lute strings like the gears turning in her mind.

"Detty doesn't want beasts to know she thinks Matty is handsome?" Rose hummed her agreement and continued working on Marcena's braid. "Like Matty doesn't want beasts to know he can sing?"

"Especially that," Matthias grumbled while making a nonchalant glance at his reflection in the mirror.

"And how Lily-Lil doesn't show anybeast her drawings?" she furthered, gaining confidence in drawing similarities.

"Yes, Marcey," Rose smiled. "Every beast is allowed to hide a little something of themselves if they so wish."

"What do you hide, Mama?" Marcey asked, turning her head to look up at Rose. "What do you hide about yourself?"

_Everything_, Rose wanted to say, but instead she smiled and gave Marcey a kiss on the top of her head.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Oh, that will be Ratherwood to help me bring up the cobblers," Rose fussed at the light rap on the door. "Marcey, please hold still so I can finish braiding your headfur, little one. Matthias, can you please get the door and … Lily! You are making every beast late!"

Matthias rolled his eyes as they all heard a scuffle from his sisters' room and a muffled swear.

"Lily of Noonvale - language!" Rose said in exasperation. Lily's voice muttered again behind the door, this time in another language. A knock came from the door again, this time a little louder. "Lily, cursing is cursing whether it's in Wardswich or not! Oh, Matthias - get the door!"

"I'm going, I'm going," Matthias muttered and sauntered off to the door. "You know, if _Lily,"_ he enunciated loud enough for her to hear, "would have just put on her _regular gown,_ we _wouldn't_ be _waiting_ right now."

"She wanted to dress up a bit," Rose simpered, hiding a coy smile.

"Yeah, for –" Matthias pulled the door and came nose to forehead with Jonas. "You."

"Good evening, Matthias," Jonas greeted and gave a little shuffle on his footpaws. "Is Lily ready?"

"Nope," he responded. Clutching the edge of the door with his paw, he added, "You wait here and I'll let you know when she's ready – in like five or six seasons …"

"Matthias!" Rose gasped and clucked her tongue with a headshake. "My apologies, Jonas. Please come in and take a seat while we wait for Lily."

"Thank-you, Miss Rose," the smithmouse replied and waited for Matthias to open the door wide again so he could enter the cottage. "I'm sorry if I'm early, but it is dusk and Lily specifically told me _not _to be late."

"Oh, Mama – lookit!" Marcena piped from her perch. "Pansies!"

_You got that right,_ Matthias snickered to himself, glancing at Jonas' paws where a small bouquet of daisies were clasped between a pair of sweaty palms. It was a kind gesture, but one that was going to be a waste on Lily. Matthias snorted at the idea. Flowers, really? For Lily? It was like Jonas didn't know her at all. The notion of such a gift was ridiculous – almost as ridiculous as the smithmouse looked in his northern kilt and slicked down fur.

"Hush, dear," Rose chided her and finished tying her satin bow. "There, you're free. Why don't you go see what's taking your sister, alright?"

Marcey bounded off the stool like it was ten feet off the ground and trotted off towards her shared room. Rising from her seat, Rose made a gesture to the settle situated in front of the cottage's one large window.

"Won't you have a seat, Jonas?" she prompted and smiled sweetly when he nodded. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Er, no, Miss Rose," he stammered out as he took his seat. "I'm fine. Thank-you."

Seizing the opportunity, Matthias slipped in his mother's chair – their seat of authority, as it were – and placed his elbows on the armrests while his mother made small talk. Never taking his eyes off Jonas, Matthias cupped a paw over fist to rest his snout as he assessed the situation. Lily was more than old enough to have suitors – that much he acknowledged – and Jonas seemed to be a reliable sort, but there was something about the smith that just rubbed him the wrong way. He didn't know what it was, or why he felt it, but the very idea of Lily cozying up to 'soot in a dress' as Lis called Jonas, made Matthias beyond frustrated. This was his sister. His older sister that had been through everything with him, done everything for him and now … to him, just Lily deserved somebeast better. Somebeast he knew would take care of her and protect her when he couldn't be there. The smiths didn't even have a butter knife in their home, for Seasons' sake!

"Stop glaring at him, Matthias," Rose whispered in his ear as she strode past the back of the chair. "If nothing else; don't ruin this for your sister."

"I'm not, I'm –"

"Mama!" Marcena called from the chamber door and then scampered back into the main room. "Lily-Lil can't get her gown done up!"

"Marcey! I said to be quiet about it!" Lily's mortified voice sounded from behind the door. "I can get it done up … I can't reach the tie!"

Jonas crimsoned as red as an ember and Matthias laughed. Having lived with females his whole life, there wasn't anything that they could say that would embarrass him, but apparently was not used common conversation to Jonas.

"If you two would excuse me," Rose said quietly, taking Marcey with her into the bedchamber. Once the door was closed, Matthias leaned back in his chair and observed the smithmouse.

"Why are you walking Lily to the feast?" he asked pointedly.

Jonas started slightly at the abrupt question and popped his eyebrows. "Because I want to - she doesn't seem to mind."

"Maybe I do," Matthias all but growled. "You didn't ask me if you could walk with her. I was up on that roof with you for a whole week and you said nothing about it!"

"I don't need to - you're not her father."

The comment stun more than Matthias thought it would. His stomach twisted and his pulse rushed.

_No, I'm not, but if our father were here, _Matthias thought, _he'd throw you out on your tail … _

"I'm her brother!" Matthias' snapped, unable to hold back, "and I'm the head of our family here." Nodding to Jonas' flowering gathering, he sneered, "_And_ unless those flowers are going to magically turn into quills, Lily's not going to care one wit for them."

Jonas opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when Rose and Marcey came out of the back chamber in front of Lily. When she appeared in the doorway, Lily kept her eyes low until finally gathering enough courage, looked up at her escort and gave him a weak smile.

"Good evening, Jonas," she breathed, swaying the yellow skirts of her gown. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"Not at all, Lily," he stated. Getting to his footpaws, Jonas meandered around the sparse furniture until his was directly in front of her. The pale fabric of her dress contrasted with her brown fur and eyes, and to him, she looked as pretty and gentle as the flowers he held in his paws. "Um, these are for you."

"Thank-you Jonas," Lily breathed and accepted the blooms. "They're … um … wonderful."

"The middles match the colour of your dress," Jonas observed, trying not to see the disappointment hidden in her features. "They're –"

"- lovely," she finished in attempt to salvage his pride in front of her family. "Thank-you, Jonas. I'll just put them in some water and then I suppose we can go."

"I'll help!" Marcey cried, running forward and tugging Lily's dress in the direction of the kitchens. "C'mon Lily-Lil, I'll help you. We _have_ to get going – it's _Byron's birthday!"_

* * *

_"Byron!"_ Marcena squealed when they reached Council Lodge and she projected herself into her younger cousin's unready arms. "Happy birthday, Byron!"

The little maiden gave the thin mouse a tight hug before pulling back and clasping his paws. "We got you a present – come and see it. Oh, _and_ Mama made cobblers. _Four_ of them. But first … the _present!"_

"I will," Bryon replied softly and receded back into the folds of Brome's overrobe while the chieftain greeted Rose and the others of their party. A nervous cough bubbled in Byron's throat, but he held it in – just as his mother and father told him to do that evening. Giving the gathering a wary glance, he gulped and tried to shrink further into the fabric's folds. "Erm, later."

"But Byron," Marcena whined and pulled at his paw. "Come see it now!"

"No … there's creatures all 'round."

"Now, Byron," Brome said sternly and gave his son a shove forward, "stop hiding against me and go have some fun with your cousin."

Byron looked out amongst the lodge again, taking in the boisterous laughs, clanking ale mugs, airy tunes from the musicians and the raucous sounds of children all making merry and enjoying the evening's festivities. His eyes widened until they were the size of shields and he let out a little whimper.

"Nat-uh," he said, cowering against his father's leg once more.

Brome gave a frustrated huff and clenched his teeth. He knew Byron was a timid mouse and he was trying to have patience and let him find his courage on his own, but the chieftain was running short on nerve. How in the Seasons was his son supposed to succeed him as Chieftain of Noonvale when he couldn't even come out of the shadows for a feast held in his own honour?

Feeling more than one pair of eyes watching the spectacle, Brome made a careless wave with his paw and said, "Byron, at least thank your cousin."

"Er, thank-you Marcena," the youngster said looking at his footpaws.

"Silly, Byron," she chuckled, tossing her plaited headfur behind her shoulder. "I'm just _Marcey!"_

"Marcena is formal though," Byron said and scuffed a footpaw on the floorboard. "My mother says I gotta be formal t'night."

"Formal?" Marcena sniped and scrunched up her nose at the notions. "But we're little ones. We don't need to be formal. We can run and play and get into mischief –"

"Marcey," Rose reproached. "Byron can be whatever he wants to be, and you need to mind your manners and _not_ get into mischief tonight."

"I'll watch her," Matthias offered and took the maiden by the paw. "Evening, uncle," he said tersely and then let his features soften at the sight of Byron grasping Brome's overrobe before him in both paws like a shield. "Hey ya, B," he smiled and winked. "Wanna come with me and Marcey over to the food table? I think I saw some candied dansoms."

Byron wrung the fabric between his paws as he assessed his cousin's offered paw. Secretly, the reticent mouse held Matthias as a hero; never afraid of anything and always being there when creatures needed him. Although not always in the 'good books' with his father, Byron viewed Matthias' little rebellions with a sense of wonder – he may never have the courage to run about firing arrows and kissing fair maidens, but by the stories, he got to live a little through Matthias' adventures.

"Erm, 'kay," he relented and let go of Brome's now wrinkled mantle. "Father, I-I'm gonna go with Matty and Marcey – erm, Matthias and Marcena – 'kay?"

Brome breathed in an inward relief and exhaled slowly. Giving Byron an approving nod, he watch while his son walked slowly to his cousin and took Matthias' paw, never one looking back as the adolescent navigated the two young ones through the crowd and towards the foodstuffs.

"He's looking like he's gained a little weight, Brome," Rose remarked now it was just the two of them. "And his eyes don't look quite as hollow."

Brome harrumphed and shook his head. "His appetite has been a little better of late which has helped," he confessed. "But his nerves only wear off anything his exercise doesn't."

"I thought you were giving him herbs to ease his stress?" she questioned and moved closer for a more private conversation.

"They weren't helping enough for me to warrant drugging my own son," Brome grumbled and clenched his paws into fists for a brief moment. "It wasn't worth coercing him to take them twice a day until he stopped eating because he was afraid the herbs could be in anything he ate."

Rose let out a sigh and gave her brother's paw a gentle squeeze. "He'll get better, Brome, you'll see. Just give him time."

The chieftain merely gestured to their right with his eyebrows and said, "I don't have time. They already are sensing he's different. They've made remarks and Keldon is just buying his time until the others besides his inner circle see it, too."

"It's just talk, Brome," Rose assured him. "Let them say what they want. The leadership of Noonvale is yours, and will be Byron's when the time comes; as is the right of our family. Honestly, what does Keldon think he is going to change were he wearing the Noonvale dress robes?"

"Nothing," Brome shrugged. "I don't think it's about change, but about whether we can lead them through hardships should the time arise."

"And you can," Rose affirmed, squeezing his paw even tighter. "Look at everything you've done at Marshank and Red-, other places about the land. You've shown courage and leadership before and will do it again if need be.

"And if danger occurs and you need a champion, I know where you can find one," Rose smiled. "He's only a travel away should we need him, and Lis and Ratherwood can keep it all together until he does get here. What allies does Keldon have? Some old gossipers and a smithmouse from the north?"

"It's not me, I'm worried about, Rose, but Byron," Brome stressed, glancing over the heads of creatures to spy Matthias, Marcena and Byron talking with Keyla and his family. "Who will he have?"

"Matthias," Rose put forward and turned her gaze to the trio as well. "Matthias is strong. He will be Byron's strength when the evils of the world come knocking."

The music changed beat and began playing a light airy tune. Couples hooted and hollered, taking up the wheel and performing the beginning customs of the dance. Twice they stomped left, twice they clapped; twice they stomped right, again they clapped and the first pairing sashayed down the center. The flash of yellow with a green tartan plaid opposite it caught the chieftain's eye and Brome turned to see Jonas give Lily a twirl at the end of the line and then lead her back up the row once more.

"Ah, so the rumour's true," he mused, content to change the subject to something less dour. "Seems Lily and Jonas have a bit of spring fever, too, eh?"

"Hmm," Rose hummed as she glanced around, looking at the other wistful glances being tossed around the hall. Spotting Adette watching Matthias' every move, Rose couldn't help but smile. "He really is oblivious," she smirked and pointed out the two to her brother. "Or Matthias is better than I thought at hiding his feelings."

"Or he simply doesn't want to admit there is such a thing as love," Brome surmised. "It's hard to be the big tough warrior when your batting your eyes at a female. I remember another beast – younger than he is now – not wanting to admit his feelings for another certain maiden, but eventually, he gave into his heart."

"Eventually," Rose simpered and bit her lip. "Poor Adette, if Matthias is anything like his fa- , well, let's hope the apple fell a little further than the tree in that regard."

"Agreed," Brome nodded and let out his own chuckle. "Or, he could just take a few lessons from the Lord of Hearts over there!"

Rose broke down into laughter at the sight of Lis leaning into a conversation with the mousemaid named Tansy. Although a few seasons younger than Rose, the maiden had never married and since their return to Noonvale, was getting steadily closer to Lis. She had been quite blatant about her intentions from the get go, but the retired fighter had been resolved to resist her; however, it seemed she was finally wearing him down – or perhaps it was the two mugs of ale he had expertly held in one paw.

"Too old for love, pah!" she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You're never too old for love."

"No, mizzy you'm ain't!" Grumm called from behind, clasping her delicate paw in his big digging mitt and giving her a twirl. "Nor bee thee too old t' danze, sayz oi! Out to thee floor wit you'm, mizzy 'n letz show 'um how itz done!"

* * *

**Feel a bit cheated for the feast? Good. Because its still happening in the next chapter too! ;)**


	9. Chapter 8

**Special thanks to MrDill, minkspit and Redwallfreak108 for reviewing the last chapter.**

**Oh! And an extra thanks to minkspit for looking over a snippet of this for me. ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Jonas and Lily ceased their dancing when the wheels ended and the pair-dances began; smiling at each other briefly as they left the floor and Jonas led her to a bench at the back of the lodge. Along the way, they paused every so often to say a quick greeting to beasts, but before a conversation could be initiated, Jonas motioned Lily to continue following him to their destination. Gesturing for her to take a seat, Jonas looked down proudly as Lily settled herself down and remained quiet, waiting for him to speak.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Lily?" he asked, more out of breath than he cared to admit. He didn't usually partake in much dancing, but he thought she would enjoy it, which judging by the blush to her cheeks she was. "Your uncle spared nothing for this feast."

"Yes," was her reply and she looked out over the gathering. "I told you this was going to be quite the event."

"That you did," he chortled and watched as Marcena dragged Byron out amongst the couples and into the steps of the dance. "What is your sister doing?" he muttered. "These dances are for married or intended creatures."

"Oh, she just having some fun," Lily giggled. Her gaze was so fixed on the two mouselets mimicking the moves of the older beasts that she didn't see Jonas glance over at his father; nor did she see Jessop's glare and raised eyebrow at the lack of propriety. There were no words needed between them for Jessop to convey his thoughts on the spectacle – minor as it was. Jonas simply pursed his lips and huffed a deep exhale. Everything had been going so well, why did her relations have to mess things up?

"It's a miracle she even got him up to dance," Lily continued to muse. "It's good for Byron to have somebeast who will help him with his –" She hesitated and looked down at her paws folded on her lap, "- shyness."

"I suppose," Jonas shrugged. "But they could have danced a wheel."

"Byron likes gentle music and, oh!" she exclaimed as the two collided with Keyla and Tullgrew. Bouncing off the two otters onto their bottoms, the cousins laughed and picked themselves up only to waltz away like nothing had happened. "Oh, those two are going to have bruised tails tomorrow!"

"Then perhaps they should stop."

Lily gave him a puzzled look. "They aren't hurting anybeast."

"No, but it's not proper." Before Lily could respond, Jonas pointed over to the table boasting twin kegs and countless bottles of wines, cordials and rosewater. "I'm going to get some water," he related, "Would you like something?"

"Water would be wonderful. Thank-you."

Jonas gave her a slight smile and disappeared amongst the crowd, leaving Lily alone with her thoughts. She took a deep breath and leaned back against the lodge wall, allowing her body to relax now he was gone. Since their entrance into the feast, Lily had felt nothing but eyes following her and Jonas as they went about; constantly she heard murmured whispers in her ears. She didn't like gossip and she didn't like the way creatures were watching them – making quiet assumptions and forecasting the next steps in hers and Jonas' relationship. How could they possible know what was to come between them when Lily wasn't even sure what was happening between them now?

"Finally," a voice chirped to Lily's right and an orange flash of fur settled down beside her. Lily started slightly at the abrupt appearance and turned to see Elisa grinning wildly at her. Seeing Lily's astonished expression, she winked and said, "I thought he would _never_ leave!"

"Why would Jonas have to leave, Elisa?" Lily smirked and raised an eyebrow as the squirrelmaid preened her tail with particular scrutiny – all the while taking special care to keep her left paw in the candle light. "You can't talk to me when he's around?"

"Not about this!" Odena put in, shuffling herself over on Lily's other side. The ottermaid hooked her arm through Lily's elbow and anchored her to the bench. "There, now ya can't escape us!"

"Why would I need to escape you?" Lily gasped, completely bewildered by her friends actions. "Really, what are you two prattling about?"

"Oh, don't play dumb with us, Lily of Noonvale!" Elisa exclaimed. "You came to the feast _with Jonas_ and you never come escorted to anything."

"I don't need anybeast to go places with," Lily stated and tried to free her arm, but Odena's hold didn't budge an inch. "Jonas only asked me because we're friends."

"Yeah, right," Elisa scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Jonas doesn't do anything with anybeast unless he has to – kind of like you!"

"I do things with creatures," Lily mumbled. "I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

"Because ya have to," Odena crowed, tightening her grip to further their point. "We don't fault ya for it Lily. Ya're private, we get it, but so is Jonas so for the two o' ya to make such a statement as to come to a feast together –"

"- means something," the squirrelmaid finished. "So," she said and tapped Lily on the nose. "Spill the beans. Are you two … courting?"

"No!" Lily gulped and flushed so intensely her fur felt like it stood on end from the singe of her skin. "I mean, we came to the feast together, but we're not … I mean, I don't think we are … that is he hasn't said anything … I mean …"

"Uh-huh," Elisa smiled. "You're courting – you're _finally_ courting somebeast!

"Oh, this so exciting," she continued, clasping paws with Odena so the three of them formed a circle. "You two will start courting and then he'll ask you to marry him, which of course you'll say yes to, and then we can all raise our children together and –"

"Elisa, breathe," Lily admonished. "Really, you are taking this too far."

"Ya're not a young maiden anymore, Lily," Odena reminded her. "It's time to start thinking about marriage and things like that. Ya can't draw and scribe forever, ya know."

Elisa nodded, "Odena's right, Lily. You're what –one and twenty seasons?"

Again, Lily flushed and pulled in her shoulders. "Two and twenty," she corrected them. She hated defining herself by age, but in terms of marriage, she was an old maid. "Like you both can talk – you're almost as old as I am and –"

"Both getting married," they replied in unison.

"I'm sure Jonas is thinking about it," Elisa firmed. "Crugger told me Linden told him that Keldon and Jessop were talking that now Jonas is now officially a smith, he needs to start thinking about settling down."

"What is it with everybeast seeing marriage as just the next phase in life that needs to happen," Lily grumbled and broke away from her friends. Twisting back, she held her paws wide and then huffed them against her sides. "Marriage isn't everything. There's a whole world out there that can be explored and more things for us to do then raise a family. We don't have to live such monotony."

They just stared at her with blank expressions, not fully understanding her meaning.

"What I mean to say," Lily sighed, regretting her minor outburst, "is that marriage shouldn't be on a beast's to-do list, but should be something that happens when you find somebeast you can't live without."

"Oh, Lily, you've read too many mousetales!" Elisa sniped and scrunched up her nose. "What do you think is going to happen? Some gallant prince is going to come down from his castle in the skies and sweep you off your footpaws?

"We live in Noonvale," she furthered, "We make our princes where we can."

"I know that," Lily breathed. "And I don't want a gallant prince. I'm not a romantic."

Odena turned away, pretending to watch the dancers as she rolled her eyes, "Oh no, not at all," the ottermaid muttered under her breath. Spying Jonas conversing with a group of males loitering about the drinks, Odena held in a smirk when a few gestured in Lily's direction and whispered Seasons-knows-what in the smith's ear. Some even gave him a celebratory clap on the shoulder, which the mouse seemed downplay to the tenth degree, hushing them and by his actions, changed the subject to the roof. No, a gallant prince Jonas was not, but as far as her friend was concerned, Jonas would make Lily a nice steadfast husband.

"I wasn't a romantic either until Crugger started making his advances," Elisa reminded Lily. "And then when he did, I couldn't think of anything else."

"Maybe you just need to warm up to the idea a bit," Odena inferred as she re-entered the conversation once more. "And by _idea_ I mean _Jonas."_

"Oh, you two are impossible!"

* * *

Keldon wove his way through the throngs of villagers, shaking paws and offering greetings as if he were the host of the event and not the creature standing at the head of the hall in the deep purple overrobe. He attended to his own acquaintances first, as was his way, before venturing into the rooted families of Noonvale. They gathered in clumps, laughing gaily and celebrating the first birthday of their chieftain's son like the future before them was bright as the sun.

Keldon gazed over at the beast of honour. Byron teetered on his scrawny legs beside his mother and looked like he was going to fold in half under the weight of a flower coronet Marcena placed on his head. His eyes were dull and shifty, his claw tips worn down to stubs from constant biting. Byron was puffing from exertion in his minor dance with his cousin – an exercise that lasted all of one movement, but looked to be a marathon for the young one. There was something not right about the way he clung to beasts, the way he worried about everything, and yet, here they all were, pretending as if nothing were wrong and this youngster would one day grown into becoming a just ruler of peace as his grandsire had been. The very notion was as absurd as the traveller's stories of the fabled Martin the Warrior slaying a wildcat!

The council elder pushed the idea from mind and focused on the task at paw. It was mind-numbing enough for him without adding the perplexities who Noonvale's future chieftain would truly be. Leering at Brome's eldest daughter, Aletia, from where she sat at the dais table with her sister Saria, Keldon gave a triumphant smirk. Brome had yet to answer his proposal of betrothal between her and his son, Linden; a silence Keldon took as a positive sign. Saria may be six seasons Linden junior, but she was twelve seasons old; in another two or three she would be marriageable and Linden would just simply have to be patient. They all just had to be patient.

Coming up to a group of otters, Keldon brushed the fabric of his tunic flat over his shoulders and cleared his throat, loudly.

"Keyla," Keldon welcomed and extended a paw when the fisherbeasts turned around. "Pleasant evening. Marty, Tulla. And you as well, Tullgrew."

The otterwife gave a haughty snort and continued her conversation with another Noonvaler as if the council elder was not even there. Keyla raised an eyebrow at the mouse's gesture before reluctantly taking the beast's outstretched paw.

"Keldon," he said in as even a tone as he could muster. "If you're looking for your son, I think I saw Linden over with Crugger by the refreshment table."

"I'm not, but thank-you all the same," he responded. "One can never have too many dibs on their son, is that not right?"

Keyla glanced side to side at his own two lads standing on either side of him glaring at the mouse with their noses scrunched. "Apparently," was the only retort that came to his tongue.

Seeing no more conversation was to be had from the otter, Keldon bid them welcome to the feast – a comment that raised all their eyebrows – before carrying on down the sideline. Two more rounds of false familiarity were made before Keldon came to one who did not even try to hide his enmity from the council elder. Plastering a genial smile on his face, Keldon held his paws wide and sighed as if he had been scouring the countryside for a long lost friend only to find him in the most likely (and least looked) place.

"Ah, Liswano," he leered, "there you are! I almost didn't see you, all blended into the crowd the way you are."

"Right," Lis answered and looked down at the paw that was thrust into the space between them. "There are some many of us scar-faces hanging about Noonvale these days, I'm surprised you remember who is who, Keldon."

"I make it my business to be familiar with every beast in the valley," he commented, jolting his arm forward once more in gesture of an anticipated shake. "From the very high to the –" he didn't even try to hide his grimace at the sound of Matthias' booming laughter in the background, "to the very low."

"Nice to hear you finish that sentence," Lis stated. "For a moment, I thought you weren't going to include yourself." Dropping his gaze downward, he nodded at Keldon's paw. "You going to move that?"

The council elder scowled as he lowered his arm in a slow retract. "I see northern courtesies are wasted upon southern airs."

"Not really," Lis shrugged nonchalantly. Crossing his own arms over his chest to signify his complete aversion to the greeting, Lis added, "I just don't shake the paws of vermin – regardless if they're kitted out in a mouse's skin with a faulty smile, or not." Keldon drew in a sharp breath and narrowed his eyes even further at the slight, thoroughly delighting his opposition.

"You think quite highly of yourself," Keldon seethed, "But I would advise you against crossing me."

"Hold on a mite," Lis said and held up his index claw. Looking behind him, the mouse flopped down on the bench and leaned against the backrest. "My apologies – I was so afraid, my knees were shaking too much to stand."

"You mock me?"

"Keldon, my arse farts worse threats than the tripe that spews from your mouth."

"Is there a problem here?" Brome's voice brokered a wall between the rising altercation and both parties turned their attention to the chieftain standing a few paces away from them. Keldon gave an embellished nod at the patriarch and revived his fabricated smile once more.

"Of course not, Chief Brome!" he assured him. "Why Liswano and I were just conversing over some digestion issues he has."

"Indeed," Brome relented, turning sideways and motioning for Keldon to join him. "Then we should leave Lis alone so he may quell his indigestion. Shall we, Keldon?"

The elder did not even waste his breath on a farewell to Lis and walked forward into the conversation with Brome.

"So," he said, coming directly to the point. "Have you thought about –"

"Why are you wandering around my assembly _welcoming_ beasts as if it were your own?" Brome accused in a hushed whisper. "I scarce believed it when Keyla told me, and then I saw your interaction with Pallum and now Lis – I thought we talked about this at council, Keldon."

"With all respect, Chief Brome," Keldon put in, "I was simply making friendly conversation. You were already busy and since my Jacelyn helped Kastern with the arrangements for the evening, I was merely acting as your extension."

"Jacelyn helped Kastern yes, but that gives you little right to tread on my duties. I do not need help greeting any Noonvaler to my lodge," Brome added. His blood was boiling at the presumptuousness of the mouse, and for the first time in a long time Brome wished he lived in a place beyond peace. In a place where he could just expel his frustration to the world in a simple fist to somebeast's jaw.

"My apologies," Keldon muttered and came to a stiff halt when they reached the dais. "I meant no offense." Spying Rose working her way through the crowd with smiles and words of welcome, he clenched his teeth. "I did not know you already had an assistant."

Brome lifted his eyes to the scene. "Rose is my sister," he stressed. "She has every right to represent the Voh family."

_In every which way,_ Keldon lulled in his mind and curled his lip at the rush her looks even caused in his own blood. Grunting the tightness from his throat, Keldon used the reference as a way to broach a different matter.

"And I would be family as well if a certain event were to take place," he stated and tip a paw at Aletia. "Have you considered my proposal, Chief? Your daughter to my son?"

"Now is not the time to discuss this."

"But it is the best time to announce it," Keldon pressed. "Everybeast is here."

"Aletia is twelve," Brome pushed back. "She is far too young to worry about marriage."

"And Byron is four," Keldon scoffed and waved his paw across the span of the lodge. "Yet here we are – celebrating for his _future_ leadership that could be –" he paused and let a slow smile curl the corners of his lips. "- a _lifetime_ away from happening."

Brome pursed his lips at the insinuation and briefly clenched his paws into fists at his sides. Exhaling his frustration, he replied, "If you want your answer now, Keldon, it is no. We are not a high society here; there is no need for such formal arrangements as betrothals – creatures here can marry for love."

The mouse smirked and glanced around the room at the festivities, searching for a loophole; and like any astute politician, he found one quickly – clutched to the skirts of Kastern's gown.

"Chieftain Brome," Keldon mused, moving closer so their dealings could not be overheard. "I do not intend to offend you, but I merely must point out that Byron is not in the best of health – as everybeast can see. I want to help you, Brome; I want to see Noonvale's leadership as a certainty and without question." The chieftain's expression flickered between anger and sorrow.

"It would be wise for you to look to the security of your line, Brome," the elder continued, "by tying your daughters to the most prominent families in the village. Byron is the only other male Voh besides yourself after all and should anything happen to him –"

"He and I are not the only ones," Brome countered. "Through Rose, Matthias is also of my line."

"The – the Bastard of Noonvale?" Keldon snorted and gave the chieftain an incredulous look. "You think the villagers of Noonvale will follow a camp rat? A beast who can't even sit on our council because he has no father to nominate him?"

Before Brome could make response, Kastern came forward and weaved her clawtips between her husband's clenched fingers to give them a reassuring squeeze.

"Ah, Kastern!" Keldon announced and flopped his upper body forward in sort of bow. "Radiant as ever, I see. I suppose it is time we all took our seats for the meal?"

"Yes," Kastern drawled out, surprised at the jovial greeting from the council member when Brome looked ready to explode. Three times she flicked her eyes between the two males trying to gauge the situation and then added, "I was just coming to get my husband to say the blessings."

"I will spread the word for others to take their seats," Keldon offered and backed away from the couple.

"Is everything alright here?" she asked and laid a gentle paw on Brome's shoulder, when Keldon was out of hearing range. "You're shaking."

Brome didn't acknowledge her concern and strode forward into the middle of the lodge; determined to announce the call to board before Keldon could play host yet again.

"My friends!" he boomed and held his paw aloft. "It's time we eat!"

* * *

The hour was late when the Noonvalers started to drift off towards their homes. Rose and Marcena had already left for their cottage hours before, taking Matthias with them as he had to carry the sleeping maid home for their mother. Much to Lily's chagrin, Rose made a point of asking Jonas to escort Lily back to the stream cottage once they were done socializing. Jonas had smiled and nodded in agreement, taking it as Rose's approval of him, and once the feast was over, Jonas quietly led Lily back towards her home after saying goodbye to her friends.

They made their way in relative silence; Jonas walking with his paws held behind his back while Lily's were clasped together at her midsection. Crickets chirped languid tones in the background as they made their way past the waterfall pool.

"What a beautiful night," Lily remarked, pausing to watch the moon's reflection on the cool waters. "It's going to be a warm spring."

"Yes," Jonas agreed and cast his eyes up at the stars. "Look – the North Star."

"Like the figurehead," Lily grinned and glanced up. "And there – O'Tara's Belt."

"And the Sisters – oh, and the Big Ladle."

Lily turned her head to make a response, but stopped when she saw the line of a scar at the base of his neck. She had never noticed it before, although she did not normally see Jonas with his neck stretched upwards.

"Where did you get that mark?"

He twisted away from her like her words had been the ring of a sword from its scabbard. "Uh, what mark?" he questioned and pulled the folds of his excess tartan closer to his neck.

"The one you're trying to cover up," Lily smiled, intrigued by a new side of him she had never seen, or even imagined. "It looks like a battle scar – um, I mean, it looks like the scars Lis and Ratherwood have from their old battles."

"A battle scar," Jonas repeated and tensed at the idea. "It's not that; far from that."

"Then what's it from? An injury from the forge?"

"No."

The smithmouse squared his shoulders and walked away from her a few paces, stopping and looking back up at Council Lodge where the moonlight illuminated the weathervane. "I got it when I was a mouseling," Jonas confessed, his head turned ever so slightly over his shoulder. "It's … when my mother died."

"Oh," Lily breathed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's alright. I didn't know her at all – well, that I can remember anyway. I was two days old when she was killed – this mark is from her footclaw. She dropped me when she was dragged away, you see, and then kicked me towards some onlookers so I'd be safe."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, Lily," Jonas huffed and twisted back to her. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, "It's not like you had a paw in it."

"No, but I – well, it's the proper thing to say."

"Yes, I suppose it is, but please – stop."

"A creature once told me that bad things happen to good beasts even if they don't deserve them," she said, offering a mild form of comfort. "But it's what we do with them that makes us stronger or weaker."

"And who told you that?"

Lily smirked and strode over to him so they were standing side by side once more. "Ratherwood," she informed him. "He is very wise if you listen to him, or that is, if you can hear him over Lis!"

"Lis does rather like the sound of his own voice," Jonas surmised and gazed down at their reflection in the calm waters of the pool. To him they looked a perfect fit – both the same height, Lily's gown matching the yellow striping in his tartan. They both had brown fur, brown eyes – he was thick through his shoulders from his trade and she was petite, but that was a common difference between males and maids in general. They just looked … right.

"You looked very pretty tonight, Lily," Jonas mumbled. "I received many compliments on you, including one from my own father. He never compliments anybeast on anything."

A wave of heat flushed over Lily and she bit her bottom lip at the praise. Downcasting her eyes, Lily whispered modestly, "Thank-you, Jonas."

His paw touched hers and Lily became aware of the strangle hold she had on her own fingers. Gently, Jonas pried her paws apart and held them as he looked at her with almost as much astonishment as she was looking at him.

"Lily," he whispered. "Can I kiss you?"

Lost for words, Lily nodded and smiled as he gently pressed her lips to hers. She closed her eyes and waited for her heart to jump, for her spine to tingle and paws tremble. But she felt… nothing. All she felt was a pair of lips on hers and breaths of hot air from Jonas' nose on her skin, but nothing… exciting.

As quickly as he began it, Jonas pulled away from their embrace and grinned at her bewildered look, mistaking it for awe.

"You're speechless?" Jonas said with a prideful chuckle.

"I… uh…" Lily stuttered, not sure how to respond. Is that what a kiss felt like? Everything had been perfect, that kiss should have been, too. Somehow she felt like there should have been more; something passionate and cause for a rush of blood.

Taking her by the paw this time, Jonas started leading her towards her cottage again. She knew she should be talking to him, but she had no words to say. Her mind was moving too fast for words to be processed from her thoughts. Yet, he was silent as well.

Together the two mice walked down the moonlit pathways of Noonvale, quietly pondering the day's events and what the next day would bring.

* * *

Far to the north of Noonvale, the winds blew harsher. Past the stretches of the great Spruceleaf Forest and across the waters of Loch Drunadin, up to the slopes to the Northern Mountains the winds blustered, carrying a whisper in the winter air. _Away, away, they all ran away…_

High above the land a great bird flew. His white underbelly hid him from the predators below and his black top feathers blended him into the landscape should any eagles soar higher than him. But he was not afraid. No. No creature, winged or otherwise, messed with Altair of Eutrusia.

Coming to a mountain meadow, the sooty tern circled it looking for the opening, the entrance to the Northern Kingdom, but he didn't see it. All he saw were the statues lining what appeared to be a walkway; the statues of the wildcats sovereigns of bygone days.

Setting down in the middle of the frosty meadow, the bird ruffled his feathers against the chill and stretched his wings. This did not look like a great kingdom of old. It didn't look worthy enough to boast it was one of the last great kingdoms of the Seasons.

"Avay, avay, vey all vran avay," a voice seemed to hiss behind the messenger, causing him to jump and take flight again. Wheeling on the wind, Altair turned to see a lone white fox staring at him, licking his cracked lips dangerously. Greedily. Hungrily.

"I am looking for the smithmice," the sooty tern snapped and showed his sharp pointed beak as he circled the creature. "Where are they? The one named, Jessop?"

"Vran avay," the fox said plainly sitting in the snow. "Vey all vran avay."

"So you said," the bird replied. "Ran away where?"

"Vey vent south. Vat vay."

"Is it true? The king is dead?"

"Mortspear vis vrozen vin va ice," the fox snickered. "Vis spears vare still. Eustrus is silent."

"Eustrus?" the bird questioned.

"Eustrus vas va name of vis palace," the fox replied and pointed to the narrow gap in the mountains.

Altair could see it now. Following the path between the statues, he could see a break in the rocks – a hidden entrance carved into the ice and snow. Around him, the mountain peaks took the shape of towers, their tops spiked like the tips of spears. This was Eustrus – the great palace of the Northern Kingdom.

"Va creatures vou seek var vin va south," the fox continued. "Vere vis nothing vin va north vor vou now. Vet va north sleep. Ve vill vaise again vone day."

With that, the sooty tern narrowed his eyes and flew off down the crag in the direction the fox had pointed. Away from the snow and the cold. Away from the chill and the voice falling like a hammer on an anvil: _Ve vill vaise again vone day._


	10. Chapter 9

**Thanks goes to minkspit and MrDill for reviewing the last chapter! :D Many thanks - it means so much to get feedback and see people enjoying the tale.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_Clank. Clink. Clang._

Thrice Jonas struck the heated iron with his hammer, turning it over on the anvil with each hit of his hammer. Sparks curled out from the glowing metal with every blow until the bright orange of the iron dulled and the smith tossed his work back onto the flames again. All around the forge hut smoke and soot swirled through the around, peppering the surfaces with powdered gray dust. Pulling down on the billows, Jonas felt the heat from the fire warm his face and watched as the metal scorched red before his eyes.

"Jonas?"

"Good morning, Father," he said as he broke his gaze away from the molten reams of red and orange, black and grey. Turning from the forge, Jonas slipped his hammer back into a belt loop and yanked up the smithing gloves higher on his forearms. "Another pleasant day."

"So it would seem," Jessop agreed as he looked out the clouded window. "It looks to be a promising spring."

"Yes," Jonas replied and glanced over his shoulder at the metal heating in the embers. Seeing the rod gleaming orange once more, the smith picked up the cool end and slapped it against the anvil. Once more he resumed his hammering; bending and twisting the piece around the curve of the horn.

"What are you making now?" Jessop inquired as he plucked an oilcloth from the bucket and began polishing one of the silver tailrings resting on the workbench.

"New door latches for Council Lodge," Jonas grunted behind clenched teeth. "I noticed last night when we were leaving the council meeting they were looking old." With a final knell of his hammer, Jonas raised the iron to inspect the bend; scrutinizing his work carefully before tossing it in a bucket of water with a resounding _hiss._ "I thought I would surprise Chief Brome with a new set."

"That is generous of you," his father remarked and held up the now glistening tailring. "Jonas, this is masterful work," he muttered. "You have more of a paw for finer metals than I ever did – like your grandfather."

"Thank-you, Father," Jonas smiled, taking a moment to admire his own craftsbeastship. "I confess I do enjoy moulding them more than I do iron or steel, but there doesn't seem to be much silver or gold around Noonvale."

"Just some of the older families have some ancient jewellery," Jessop shrugged and place the silver back on the bench. "Perhaps one of them will let you rework a piece once they see these tailrings for Crugger and Elisa.

"Jonas, I wanted to talk to you about something," his father started. "You seem to have grown fond of that little Lily maiden. I want to know how serious you are."

Jonas' cheeks burned brighter than the fire behind him. "Serious about what?" he mumbled out and started tidying up the tools of trade around him, trying anything to take his mind off the question.

"Don't play daft with me, lad," Jessop chided and rapped his paw on the counter. "You escorted her to the feast a week ago. You danced with her, supped with her – Hellsgates, you even walked her home when it was all done – and since then all I hear about is how the two of you are seen walking places and meeting together. I want to know what your intentions are with her."

"Do you not approve of her?" Jonas asked, closing his eyes and placing his palms down to grip the anvil – all the while keeping his back to his father. "Do you not like Lily?"

"She is quiet and does not like to make a fuss," the old smith related, reluctantly. "And she takes care in her own interests which is good because she will not cling too much to you when your mind needs to be on your craft; but," he paused to give credence to his words, "she is not from the most ideal family."

"Ideal family?" Jonas gaped. "She's the niece of the Chieftain of Noonvale. How is that _not_ from the most ideal family? It is thee family."

"It is, but Laterose is a shame to Voh name. You've heard the rumours about her, I need not tell you about them."

"She's Lily's mother," Jonas huffed in half-hearted defense. "You shouldn't talk so ill of her," he mouthed in the barest of whispers – a statement his father did not hear.

"Adopted mother," Jessop corrected and placed a paw on his son's shoulder. "Which works to your advantage should you wish to pursue her; you need not worry about her inherited nature to such infidelities, but only hope Lily has not learned her mother's tricks. You will have to firm with her and mould her into a suitable wife."

"You make her sound like a piece of iron," Jonas scoffed and twisted away from the rare show of fatherly comfort. "I pay attention to one maid; take her to one feast and walk a-ways with her and now I'm moulding her to be my wife? Already bending her to my will before any vows are spoken, any tokens exchanged?"

Focusing his attention on the silver tailrings, Jonas walked to the workbench and picked them up in his paws. "We should find some sort of box and velvet to line it with for these," he said in attempt to change the conversation away from confrontation. Jessop, however, was not so easily swayed.

"Training a maid to be your wife all starts at the beginning, Jonas," his father affirmed. "You select the best piece from the pile – the one with the most promise and then you work it with fire and water until you achieve exactly what you wished to create.

"You chose the proper path of mastering your trade before you secured yourself a match," he continued, walking around the smith hut and inspecting tools and bits of metal in an almost absentminded routine. "But now you've achieved your standing and it is time you took a wife. If this Lily is the maid of your choice, then hurry up and get the job done. You aren't getting any younger, Jonas – and neither is she."

"I know," he relented and flapped his arms against his sides, making a clapping sound as his gloved paws thwapped against the leather of his apron. "Master of trade then master of house. Further the line, and be a good mouse," Jonas recited the northern idiom of his childhood.

Jessop nodded at his son's submission. "Right," he proclaimed, gesturing to the door leading to their home. "Now, come inside for lunch and –"

Jonas froze; his ears perking and eyes going wide. "Lunch?"

"Yes, lad," his father gruffed out. "Sun's been high for an hour now."

"Great Seasons, I forgot!" Jonas yelped and whipped off his gloves and apron. "I was supposed to meet Lily in the orchards." Slashing water on his face, he added, "She was making a picnic for us and –"

"Jonas, what are you –"

"Goodbye, Father," the frantic suitor yelled over his shoulder as he sprinted from the hut, "I'm late!"

* * *

Up on the slopes of the Noonvale orchards a linen blanket fluttered its corners in the soft spring breeze beneath a bower of cherry blossoms; the contents of a luncheon were arranged around the fabric in careful details; a plate of butter scones and a bowl of spring berries centered the square with a decanter of mint water and a leek and cheese tart. Lily sat on one corner, her arms wrapped around her legs while she rested her chin upon her knees in forced patience. Every few breaths she would inhale deeply, holding the air in her lungs for a spell before exhaling slow and long, her shoulders lowering with her hope.

_What is keeping you, Jonas,_ she thought and shuffled on her bottom, trying to get comfortable. _I said lunch, didn't I? I know I told him in the orchards, but what if –_

"Afternoon, Lily!" Tullgrew called from down the path. Raising a paw to shield her eyes from the sun, the otterwife took in the picturesque setting. "Waiting for somebeast?" she asked coyly as she spied only two cups and plates set out before the mousemaid.

"Just a friend," she answered, trying to downplay the situation.

"Well, if you need an extra mouth or two to eat up those vittles, just let me know! I'll send over Marty and Tulla to help clean up that spread."

Lily simply waved her response to the otterwife and broadened her gaze around the valley, surveying all the beasts going about their daily routines. With a sigh, she glanced at the path leading to the smith-hut. _Jonas, please don't be much longer …_

The breeze tickled her whiskers and Lily turned to watch the wind flutter the leaves around her, the grasses fanning back and forth with the gusts. For a moment, she pictured herself back in forest meadows of Mossflower in autumn; sitting in the front row of Dibbuns wide-eyed and full of wonder as she listened to Bella's tales and lessons of life. Grand adventures and perilous journeys, brave heroes and formidable foes - Brocktree, Sasniss, Heran the Hammer. Tsarmina, Verdauga, Mortspear …

Her eyes popped at the memory. "Mortspear," she whispered, a smile playing on her lips. "I knew I knew that name from somewhere." Looking around herself, Lily started grabbing the plates and foodstuffs; jamming them into the basket with an eighth of the care she in packing them originally. "It's from one of Bella's lessons –"

Disregarding the remainder of her clean-up, Lily reached for her satchel and pulled out a small journal and stick of charcoal. Before she could forget the flood of recollections coming back to her, Lily crossed her legs and leaned over her lap; putting the point to the page and scratching out a poem as it lulled through her mind.

"Mortspear, Mortspear!  
King of far away.  
Mortspear, Mortspear!  
King of all dismay.  
Mortspear, Mortspear!  
Keep his tale up in the ice.  
Mortspear! Mortspear!  
By being good and nice!"

Lily laughed aloud; surprising herself at how easy the Dibbun verse had come to her. She took a moment to sketch a spearhead into the initial letter before adding a postscript.

_King Mortspear,_ she scribbled out below the poem. _Wildcat overlord of a northern kingdom. Father of Verdauga, self-proclaimed ruler of Kotir in Mossflower Country, and grandsire of Tsarmina. It was under the guise of protection from Mortspear that Verdauga tricked Barkstripe the Kind into allowing him to station his Army of the Thousand Eyes in the old fortress of Kotir which brought about the First Rebellion of Mossflower._

"The first rebellion," she pondered, closing her journal and laying it beside her on the grass, "A gentle word for slaughter. At least they were defeated in the end."

Once more Lily perused the scenery, her chin resting on an upturned palm in boredom. There was not so much as a whisker of Jonas to be seen anywhere and the more she huffed and puffed, the more foolish she felt for waiting as long as she had. If only he knew how important the humble occasion was to her, perhaps he wouldn't be late, or worse, forgotten about her. Lily asking Jonas to a picnic was more than just a time to eat and share in naïve flirtations – it was an invitation to something she held dear to her heart. To her, picnics symbolized family and the simple joy of being in each other's company. A week of walks around Noonvale and she felt ready to try and open up to him; she felt ready to let him in a bit. But now …

"How much longer do I wait before it becomes pathetic," she mumbled to herself and fought the blush threatening to colour her cheeks. "I look desperate – a desperate old maid with a foolish dream." Her clawtips poked at her lips as she battled tears of embarrassment and suppressed anger. Despite her best efforts, a single drop trickled down her cheek.

"Ugh!" Lily exclaimed and wiped the tear away with the back of her paw, rocking forward onto her knees and resuming her packing once more. "Ridiculous!" she admonished herself. "I'm being absolutely ri-dic-u-lous!"

Whipping the linen blanket up off the ground, Lily wound the fabric up unceremoniously and threw it on top of the spoiled contents of the picnic before picking it up and placing it beside the tree trunk.

"There," she said, wiping her paws together. "It's like it never happened."

"Like what never happened?"

"Oh!" Lily cried and jumped at the sound of Jonas' voice behind her. Spinning on her heel, she let her paw fly to her heart. "Jonas," she gasped. "Great Seasons, you scared me."

"I didn't mean to," he panted from an obvious run. "You were expecting me –" he paused, looking around her at the dishevel crowning the basket and raising his eyebrows, "weren't you?"

"I was," Lily stated. "Hours ago."

Jonas shook his head and ran a paw over his face. "Look Lily, I'm sorry. I was at the forge and lost track of time. We can still have lunch together if you wish."

She wanted to yell at him – to tell him how she truly felt, but did it matter? He had come. Late, yes, but he was there. Giving the basket a pitiful glance, Lily sighed. "It's not really edible anymore," she admitted. "I wasn't very careful packing it up, but if you want I can set it up again."

Jonas walked over to the carrier and lifted the corner of the linen to inspect the foodstuffs. Twisting his nose up at the culinary chaos, he gave reached inside and pulled out the crumbled mess of a scone. "Erm, I think maybe we should pass," he grumbled, placing the pastry back inside. "It's all kind of … squished."

"I assumed you weren't coming," Lily confessed and brushed away wisps of her headfur blown loose from the rising breeze. "You were so late and I was … Oh, no – my folio!" she gaped as the wind blew her journal open and sleeves of paper fluttered about the grasses and pathways. "My drawings!" she cried and sprinted off to collect them.

_No beast can see these!_ she berated herself while she plucked the pages up and pressed them against her chest. Four times she uttered a small cry when the wind would flick the images upwards and she would see the clear sketches of Redwall and her old friends mingling with the depictions of her own family. Her face flamed redder the faster she gathered, all the while thinking of what would happen should a page fall into the wrong paws.

"Curse the south wind!" she shouted at another gust drove a pile out of her reach. "Just stop blowing!"

"Lily, do you need help?" Jonas called, when she tripped and almost dropped the paper she had grasped in her paws. "I can –"

"I'm fine, Jonas – really, I can get them myself … Oh, please, just turn around and don't look at them … Ah! Hellsgates! Bloody wind!"

"Lily!" the smith admonished, his mouth slightly agape at her language. "Really, some scattered papers are no cause for cursing."

_Maybe not to you,_ she thought. She knew it wasn't ladylike, but panic had a way of controlling her tongue. Inwardly, she blamed Lis for her blasphemous tongue, but usually she was able to keep it under control.

"I'll help you."

"No, Jonas, please –"

"I won't look at anything, Lily," he interrupted, a hint of frustration in his tone. "I won't have you swearing like a baseborn where everybeast can hear you over some scribbles."

"It's not –" Lily started and then stopped herself from finishing the sentence. If he did see anything, it would be easy to simple dismiss them as careless drawings and verse, as _scribbles_, and not in fact a doorway to another world, another part of her she could no longer express any other way. Quickly, she plucked the remaining sleeves from the grass and rocks and placed them with care in the crook of her arm.

"Here, Lily," Jonas said when she picked up the last sheet from a patch of bluebells. Handing over a small pile of four or five sheets, Jonas tipped his head down at the vacant upturned side. "I didn't look."

"Thank-you," she muttered and took the offered pages, flattening them against her chest with the others. "I'm, I'm sorry I swore. I don't usually – I was just beside myself, that's all."

"Where would you have learned such talk?" he questioned, giving Lily a hard stare as she cast her eyes down to her footpaws. "I would expect words like that from some battle-hardened soldier, but not a female." His lips pursed when Lily didn't respond and raised her shoulders slightly in shame.

_But you were around soldiers, weren't you,_ Jonas brooded._ You're still around them – Liswano, Ratherwood, your own brother…_

"I'm sorry," she mumbled again and raised her eyes to his. "I have to go now, Jonas," she informed him. "I promised my uncle I would help him translate some of the old healing texts this afternoon and now I'm late. Perhaps we can meet some other time again – that is if you still want to meet with me."

"Of course I still want to meet with you," Jonas confirmed and touched her paw. "I –"

"Yes, Jonas?"

"I – um … that is, I –"

"Yes?"

Jonas' whole body was tense as he looked straight into her brown eyes; over and over his father's words played about his thoughts and their reality started to take root in his mind. Lily was the best fit for him, the best steel from the pile, but now she needed to be moulded to his likes and dislikes. He needed to teach her what he wanted, what he expected from a wife; but he couldn't do that with her under the influences she had. He needed to bring her to his fire.

"Where is your mother today, Lily?" Jonas asked, ignoring the surprised look on the maiden's face. "Is she at home? Is she alone?"

"I believe so," Lily replied cautiously. "Matty is back to his defensive training again and Marcey left mid-morning to go flower picking with Adette and some of the other little maidens."

"Good," Jonas nodded and bent down to pick up Lily's picnic basket. "I'll take this back to the stream cottage for you. You aren't going to need it doing translations."

"Why are you going to see my mother, Jonas?" Lily inquired. "You aren't going to tell on me for cursing, are you?" she tried to jest.

"No," he said simply and raised her paw to his lips to press a kiss – an action that caused her to draw a short intake of breath. "I just need to ask her a question."

Lily's cheeks flamed with a blush. "What kind of question?"

"You'll see," Jonas assured her and lowered her paw. "Soon."

* * *

"He has to stop pushing himself, Gonff," Sister Cecily whispered to the mousethief as they walked the rows of cots in Redwall's infirmary. At the end, in his seemingly tradition place by the open window, Martin lay sound asleep propped up by a mound of pillows and covered by a warm quilt despite the heat of the day. The retired warrior had been stripped of his coarse habit and remained clad only in a light undershirt, a cool cloth resting on his forehead.

"Martin has to realize he is not as young as he used to be –"

"Cecily, we are far from ancient beasts," Gonff retorted with a chuckle, noting the gray strands of headfur starting to peek out from beneath the sister's wimple she wore as her station as Redwall senior healer. "We're not young by any means, but…"

"But we are all aging, Gonff," Cecily put in sternly. "The seasons change forward, Gonff, not backward."

"Aye, they do that," Gonff mused. Right now Columbine was meeting with Gonflet's Saffron at Saint Ninian's to discuss wedding plans. It was only a matter of weeks before the impeding event and things were moving fast. To everybeasts' astonishment, Gonflet had asked Martin to stand beside him for the ceremony, declaring comically if his Uncle Martin was standing with him, he'd be too scared to run away. Looking down at the warrior, Gonff wondered if he would see that day. Before him lay the shell of what once been the most feared fighter in the land turned humble abbey brother; a creature who had taken countless wounds and still fought on, yet here he was laid low by a simple organ. Martin grumbled something in his sleep and balled the blanket up larger in his arms, muttering and nestling his head in the folds of the quilt. After all this time, he still slept like she was in his arms.

"I'll talk to him, Cecily," Gonff said with a sigh and sat down in the chair beside the bed, tisking at the picked at oatcake and half-drunk beaker of water. "Ya know, Cecily, if ya want him t' eat that, ya shoulda at least put butter on it."

"Martin isn't going to eat butter anymore, Gonff," Cecily snorted and handed him a piece of parchment from the table. "I'm changing his diet to see if it helps his… condition."

"No sweets, creams, butters, pastries, heavy stews, milk …" Gonff read off the list and then looked at the sister with mock disbelief. "Seasons, Cecily- what is our warrior to eat? Gruel?"

"If it keeps him alive, then yes," Cecily countered, wagging a paw at Gonff's nose. "And no cheating by swiping him things either, Gonff. I have prepared a list for Columbine as well who I know will take this seriously."

"Might as well walk behind him with a hot poker," Gonff grumped.

"His heart pokes at him enough."

"So, rumours are true," Gonff exhaled, looking at his sleeping friend. "It stopped again?" Ceciy nodded. "What caused it this time?"

"He was simply walking by the pond with little Timkim watching him crawl after grass hoppers," the sister shrugged. "Ferdy says they saw him go down on one knee from the wall, but thought he was just picking something up. It wasn't until Timkin started crawling for the water and Martin made some erratic movement to pull the babe away that they realized he was having another attack."

"But you were the one who ordered him to walk more!"

"I know I was, Gonff," Cecily relented. "I also told him to stay away from things that bring up bad memories, but every day he is playing with the Dibbuns or walking in the gardens. You can't tell me _those_ don't hurt his heart, no matter what he has tricked his mind and the world into thinking."

"I'll talk to him," Gonff affirmed. "When will he wake up?"

"Within an hour," Cecily smirked and pointed to the food and drink on the nesting table. "He caught onto my tricks at trying to get him to rest."

"Ya shouldn't be drugging him, Cecily," Gonff scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Martin would have just rested if ya told him to."

"I didn't want to take the chance," she stated and opened the window to let more of the warm summer breeze through. "I am going to Cavern Hole for the mid-day meal. Are you coming?"

"I'll wait with my matey here," Gonff said and waved off Cecily off. "I'll stay here the rest of the day with him and make him rest up."

Once she was gone, Gonff frowned at the seriousness of the situation. This was Martin's fourth episode that season. They were becoming more frequent and more unpredictable. At first it had only struck him whenever he did too much exercise, whenever he strained his heart too much. Reluctantly, he had stopped his secret morning runs to Camp Willow after Gonff harshly impressed on him that he was a Brother of Redwall and no longer a Warrior of Redwall. He did not need to push himself as he used to. For a time, it seemed to work, until a different kind of tension to his heart arose as he started looking after the Dibbuns more and more. At first they banned him from playing any sort of games with them, but that didn't work; Bella had found him with at least twenty young ones piled up around him under the apple trees, all of them sleeping peacefully in the warm summer sun.

It was then they knew why his heart pains continued. As much as they were his saviour, the Dibbuns were his weakness. Through them he got to be the beast he had longed to be, but as a penalty he was constantly reminded of his one-time family; of his inquisitive little maiden who worshiped him and his little son with his bright hazel eyes.

Every time a young maid picked up a parchment to draw or skip happily across the green, Gonff watched him rub his chest. Each little one that learned to crawl, he lay on his belly and encouraged it forward, smiling and resisting the urge to call it by another beast's name. There wasn't a young ones' paw in Redwall that he had not held for its first steps. After the evening meals, they always pulled him to a seat by the fire and crowded around him as he told stories of great deeds, but never of himself. He never thought of himself as something out of a legend. They were always stories other creatures.

At night Martin could be found tucking the young ones into their cots, rocking the odd one in his arms as he lulled them to sleep with a verseless tune- its words lost from his memory long ago. During the thunderstorms, he was the first to their fearful cries and would sleep in the large rocker by the fire so they knew he was there to protect them. He fussed and bustled over them more dutifully than an old hogwife and they loved him for it – and regardless of the pains it caused him, Martin was resolute that no beast was going to take him away from them. He was able to have a shred of what could have been his happiness and he was never going to let it go.

"Ah, Martin, why is this happening to you?" Gonff whispered and leaned forward to rest his face in his paws. "You've fought through so much- how is it the greatest thing in your body is the weakest?"

The breeze fluttered through the open window, rolling and curving like a melody, carrying a sweet perfume on the air from the abbey gardens. The scent of the newly bloomed roses filtered into the infirmary and Gonff watched as Martin coughed and grimaced in pain, rolling over and curling into a tight ball like he had just taken a strike to the chest. The mousethief sprain to his footpaws, slamming the glass shut in the casement and staring back at Martin's painful expression. Slowly, as the smell diminished, Martin relaxed and he returned to his relative peaceful slumber.

"It's because you all but cut it out to give to her," Gonff breathed, answering his own question. Silently, he cursed the Fates for Martin's lot and plunked himself down on the chair again, quietly witnessing his friend's dream-like mutterings and nuzzles into his pillow like it was a mound of soft waving headfur.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Marcena skipped along the pathway from the meadow; a shallow basket overflowing with wildflowers in one paw and holding Adette's paw with the other. The older maiden hummed a light tune as they went, making a game out of their journey with hopes, stops and leaps. They had already taken the others of their entourage back to their homes for the day, leaving the two of them alone to just be themselves.

"What are you going to do with all your flowers, Marcey?" Adette asked once her song was finished. "Are you going to make a bouquet or a garland?"

"A wreath," the tiny maiden replied. "Mama showed me how'da make one for the table and then we can put a candle in the middle of it and it makes the whole cottage look pretty."

"It sounds wonderful," Adette smiled. "Maybe you could show me sometime."

"Like now!" Marcena cried and batted her blue eyes up to her companion. "I could show you now – when we get to the cottage."

Adette's head fell back as she let out a light bolt of laughter. "Marcey," she giggled. "It's almost dinner time. I can't impose."

"You could stay for dinner," the maiden shrugged, like it was an everyday occurrence, before her features being set aglow at a new idea. "Please stay for dinner, Detty! If you stay – I'll make Mama play her lute and Matty and I can sing for you. Please?"

"Your brother … _sings?"_ Adette smirked at the idea, a light blush heating her cheeks at the mention of him. "He says he can't sing."

"Matty doesn't like anybeast to know he can," Marcey related. "It's his secr- … et."

"Oh, Marcey," she sighed, stopping and giving the little one a squeeze on the paw. "You weren't supposed to tell anybeast, were you?"

"I don't think so," Marcey mused and bit her bottom lip. "You aren't going to tell on me, will you Detty?"

Adette simply grinned and shook her head. "No, Marcey, I won't tell anybeast."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

With that, Marcena exhaled a sigh of relief and pulled Adette forward down the path again.

"No wonder Matty kissed you," Marcena piped as they rounded the bend and began descending towards the stream. "You're so nice. I bet he kisses you again."

"Marcey," Adette whispered and blushed at the memory; the way he brushed her cheek with the back of his paw before he cupped her face, the feel of his lips on hers – the hardness of his shoulder muscles under her paws …

"Marcey, you shouldn't talk about private things," she chided her.

"If it's private why does _everybeast_ in Noonvale know?" Marcena questioned, letting her basket swing back and forth with their motion. "Even at Byron's feast I heard creatures talkin' about it when the two of you danced."

"Marcey, I –"

"You looked real happy," she put in. "Even happier than Lily-Lil and Jondas!"

"I know," Adette said quietly, a smile curling her lips and softening her eyes. "I was very happy."

"Then come for dinner and I'll make Mama play the lute, I'll sing and Matty can dance with you again!"

"Oh, you silly little maiden!" Adette exclaimed and scoped Marcena up into her arms. "You never give up on an idea, do you?"

"Never!" Marcena trumpeted. "So, will you come for dinner?"

"I –"

"What's wrong, Adette?" Linden laughed as he came up the path with a pair of cronies. The other two creatures, a squirrel and a hedgehog had fishing poles slung over their shoulders, while all three of them each carried a line of freshly caught fish. "Not proud at the idea of dining with a camp rutter's whelp?"

"Linden, that's not nice!" Adette protested, dropping her basket and covering Marcena's little ears. "You shouldn't say things like that…"

"It's the truth," Linden snickered, focusing his gaze on Marcena. "They're both whelps, you know. Neither of Matthias or Marcena was worth a male claiming. It baffles me why you don't spend more time around the important creatures of the valley - like me."

"Because you're only important in your own mind!" Adette shot back angrily. Taking her charge by the paw, Adette gave it a firm squeeze. "Let's go Marcena. Don't pay attention to Linden. He's not worth the thought."

The three of them laughed aloud, barely moving as the two maidens tried to pass. Adette nearly tripped over the end of a pole, commanding another round of laughter from the trio and causing Marcena to look up at Adette, furrowing her brow in concentration.

"Lindy's pokin' out sticks on purpose, isn't he, Detty?"

"Yes," Adette said plainly, scowling at them over her shoulder. "Let's go to the cottage, Marcey. I would _love_ to stay for dinner _and_ dance with your brother."

But the little maiden held fast, resisting Adette's pull on her paw. "Lindy said a bad thing about Matty and me, didn't he?"

"Yes, Marcey," Adette sighed and gave Linden a cold glare. "Things that proper beasts don't say about another."

Marcena nodded and continued to stand her ground, processing something in her mind step by step. Tightening her grip on her basket, the tiny maiden turned abruptly on her heel and strode towards the laughing mouse.

"Oh, look, mates," Linden jeered his comrades. "I think the little no-Dad has something to say… OUCH!"

Linden yelped as Marcey stomped down as hard as she could on his footpaw with her heel. The older mouse lifted his paw in pain, hopping on the other before Marcey whipped him soundly across the side with her basket. Flowers exploded from the wicker and littered the pathway, unbalancing Linden with the hit and causing him to fall over onto his rump. Picking himself up unto his knees, Linden just raised his face to yell at the little maiden when he felt a small fisted paw knock him solidly on the end of his nose.

"Ah!" he roared, cupping his paws over a bleeding snout. "You no good…"

"You say any more about my family and I'll get Mama's soap to wash your mouth!" Marcena shouted, resting her paws on her little hips and stomping her footpaw. "Lindy, you are not very nice!"

"I'll tell the chieftain on you, Marcena!" Linden pouted, snuffling blood in his nose. "You will be in so much trouble…"

"I will not!" Marcey countered and pointed a claw at Linden. "You started it!"

"You struck me!" Linden snapped back as the two others came forward to help him to his footpaws. "What kind of a maiden strikes a male?"

"Me!" Marcey proclaimed, thumping her fist against her chest. "You say any more mean things about my family and I will hit you again!"

"What's going on here?" Ratherwood's stern voice sounded from the edge of the path as he came through the trees. A cloak waved out behind him as he walked, adding to his already intimidating stare, and a traveller's pack slung over his shoulders. Seeing the dribbles of blood splattered on Linden's shirt and the fighter's stance of the little maiden, Ratherwood shook his head and tried to hold in a chuckle.

"Rathy," Marcena called, "You're back – but don't bug me … I'm fighting a weasel!"

"Did you only sire fighters, Martin?" Ratherwood whispered to himself as he came up to the group. Holding his paws wide in exasperation, he looked Adette in the eye. "Adette, what happened?"

"Linden insulted Marcey's family and now is crying like a babe because she fisted his nose," Adette sniped and crossed her arms.

"And I'm going to do it again if he insults Matty and me one more time!" Marcey snorted, clutching her little paw tighter and then giving a slight cry at the hurt that came from it.

"Ah, Marcey, you didn't hurt your paw, did you?" Ratherwood sighed as he knelt down to look at her purpling fingers. "Oh, little one, you broke your fingers."

"And I spilt my flowers, Rathy!" Marcey sobbed, her paw starting to throb as she looked around at the scattered blooms. "Now, they're all trump on!"

"Your tail is going to be trumped on when your uncle is done with you," Linden said with a nasally voice as he held his paw against his bleeding nose. "I'm going to tell the chieftain about this and he'll punish Marcena for striking me…"

"You are going to freely admit a maid bested you?" Ratherwood mocked as he picked Marcey up in his paws and began inspecting her injured paw. "A little maid no older than a mouselet at that? Linden, no male with any sort of nuts would ever openly admit to that."

"She hit me…"

"You insulted her family!" Ratherwood rounded at him and gave the mouse a glare. "You are just lucky you live where you do, lad. Anywhere else and you would have been killed threefold by now for the insults you dish out."

Linden returned Ratherwood's hard stare, but cowered as he realized the old fighter wasn't going to back down. Shrugging his shoulders as if he didn't care, he snatched his line of fish from his friend and strode off down the path to the larger cottages, his companions hurrying in his wake.

"Never a dull moment," Ratherwood murmured and adjusted Marcena in his paws. "Why do you always find trouble, little one?"

"I didn't find trouble – Linden did!" she crowed despite her tears and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I missed you, Rathy. Where did you go this time?"

Ratherwood grinned slyly and gave her a tiny squeeze. "Oh, you know me; just out for a walk that took too long. Brought back some feathers for your sister to make some quills with," he added with a wink.

"You went to visit the owls," Marcena surmised. "Did you bring back the map Matty wanted?"

"Matthias wanted a map?" Adette gaped at the inference. "Why would Matthias need a map? He's not going away, is he?"

"Come you two," Ratherwood said, ignoring Adette's question as he gave Marcena's little paw a kiss and held her tighter. "Let's get you both to the stream cottage and get this paw bound up."

"Lindy is mean, Rathy," Marcena cried quietly into Ratherwood's shoulder. "He says mean things."

"I know, Marcey," Ratherwood sighed. "Don't worry, Lis and I will make him stop."

"Matty, too," Adette put in. "He's going to be furious when he hears this."

"Lindy has more to worry about than Matty or Lis or Rathy," the little one sniffed and look down at her now swelling paw.

"Why is that, Marcey?" Ratherwood chuckled and gave her a kiss on her headfur. "Do you think your Uncle Brome or your Mama are going to be mad?"

"Oh, they will be mad, but that's not what Lindy should be worried about," Marcena said furrowing her brow in determination.

"Then what should he be worried about, Marcey?" Adette asked confused at what the maiden was getting at.

"I still have my left paw I can hit him with," Marcey said boldly and waved her little paw in the air, wiggling her working fingers.

* * *

"Ah, good afternoon, Jonas," Rose greeted as she opened the door to the cottage to see the smith mouse. "Lily is … meeting with you, is she not?

"Yes, Miss Rose," Jonas said with a touch of nervousness in his voice. "We were to meet for lunch, but I … well, she's gone to help Chieftain Brome with some translations and I was actually wondering if I could speak to you for a moment."

"Oh," Rose said with a slight smile and gestured the mouse into the cottage. "Then by all means, come in."

Jonas walked quickly into the tidy cottage and looked about the main room. The fire crackled happily in the small stone hearth and the floor newly swept. He could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen and noticed the loaves of baked bread lining the small dining table. If Lily's scones and tart had been half as good as Rose's baking smelt, he was a daft beast for having been too late to enjoy them.

Remembering the basket in his paws, Jonas held out the carrier to the mousemaid. "I brought this back for Lily, Miss Rose," he blurted out and felt a small rush of blood when he looked into her hazel eyes. He was never truly comfortable around Rose; always he felt like she was more than just a chieftain's sister. There was a mystery about her, a great secret, that made him uneasy and he didn't like surprises or secrets. Mystery and adventure even less.

"Thank-you, Jonas," Rose said and motioned to the chairs by the fire. "Have a seat and I'll get some refreshments."

"None for me, Miss Rose," Jonas said abruptly then righted himself. "I mean, no thank-you, Miss Rose."

Rose nodded and placed the picnic basket on the table before taking her seat by the fire. Picking up her embroidery, Rose watched Jonas take his own seat on the chair opposite her. When he plucked up his courage to look at her, he felt his breath catch in his throat and he became even more nervous to see her staring intently at him.

"So, Jonas," Rose started, giving him a gentle expression to ease the rising tension. "What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

"I was, well, you see Miss Rose," Jonas said rubbing the back of his neck. "I was wondering if I may… if it is possible that I …"

"Oh, Jonas whatever it is will be easier if you just spit it out!" Rose chuckled at him.

"I would like to ask for Lily's paw," Jonas said quickly and blushed. "I know I should be asking her father, but under the circumstances… Miss Rose, I would like ask Lily to be my wife."

Rose sighed and smiled warmly at the nervous mouse. "Do you think Lily loves you, Jonas?" Rose asked, putting down her embroidery and folding her paws in her lap.

"I know she likes me very much," Jonas replied earnestly. "Perhaps, like can grow to love."

"Do you love her?"

"I think I do, Miss Rose."

"Well, Jonas, to like and think is not to love," Rose said firmly getting up from the chair to stare down at the smithmouse. "To like and to think are to use your mind; to love uses the heart."

"I smile when she's around," Jonas countered. "She's kind and gentle. Those qualities come from the heart."

"Yes, Jonas, they do," Rose breathed thinking of her own smile when she looked upon her own love long ago. Exhaling, Rose started pacing the small room. She knew this day would come. Why wasn't she ready for it?

"Have you talked to Lily about your feelings Jonas?" Rose said to buy her more time as she paced.

"No, Miss Rose," Jonas whispered. "I thought it best to get your approval first."

_Thinking with his mind again_, Rose sighed. Martin had not asked her father's permission. He had just asked Rose. He had taken their lives in his paws and made them a family on that rainy day so long ago. He had acted with his heart, as he always did.

This should have been Martin's decision. Jonas should have been sitting in front of the formable warrior shaking in fear of his answer, not comfortably waiting for Rose to agree to his proposal. Rose sighed again. What could she say?

"Uh, Miss Rose?" Jonas asked after a few moments silence.

"You're older than Lily, Jonas," Rose said quickly as she was still not ready to give an answer.

"By a couple of seasons," Jonas pleaded. "Not by much."

"Yes," Rose relented. Martin had been older than her as well. Age meant nothing in terms of the heart.

"I will always take care of her," Jonas furthered. "I plan to stay here in Noonvale, but even if we didn't, I would always give her a comfortable home. I'm a smithmouse – any village we would go to, I would always find work."

"Comforts of a home are nice, Jonas," Rose countered sternly. "But they are worthless if you are not loved."

"Yes, Miss Rose," Jonas nodded. "But I would like the opportunity to love her and by your answer, I can."

_You don't need to be married to love, Jonas_, Rose thought as she looked at the young smithmouse. Lily would have a comfortable life with him and he was planning on staying in Noonvale- a requirement for Lily. She couldn't leave. They had to stay in Noonvale. She had to stay hidden with her family.

Jonas shifted nervously on his chair and Rose had to hide her smirk at the sweat starting to pepper his brow. The fire wasn't that hot, he was just that nervous.

"Then yes, Jonas, you may ask her," Rose said finally. "But it is Lily's life and ultimately her decision. Whichever answer she gives you will be her choice and I will support it."

"Thank-you, Miss Rose," Jonas breathed out a sigh of relief and got up from the chair to go to the doorway. "Good day, Miss Rose."

"Are you going to ask Lily now?" Rose simpered as she led him to the door.

"No," Jonas said shaking his head. "I have to think of the right moment."

_Thinking again,_ Rose thought as she watched him walk up the path. _Just go do it!_

* * *

"Mama, I can't play the lute with my paw bandage," Marcey huffed as she sat by the fire after their dinner trying to play a tune on the strings. Every time she went to use her right paw, she muffed a cord and snorted in frustration.

"Marcena, you aren't supposed to be using that paw for anything right now," Rose responded and handed Matthias another bowl of hot soup. "Remember what your Uncle Brome told you. Now, come back to the table and leave music alone for one night."

"But it's not fair!" Marcey grumped and crossed her little paws. "Matty whacks Lindy all the time and doesn't hurt his paw!"

"That's because your brother is older," Rose sighed. "And he doesn't whack Linden _all the time_. He shouldn't be _whacking_ any beast at any time."

"Only when he deserves it," Matthias mumbled between mouthfuls of chestnut and leek stew. "I can't help it if he deserves it all the time…"

"Matthias," Rose exhaled, narrowing her eyes at him. "You promised to stop this rivalry between you two."

"Mama, is there more?" Matthias asked, veering the conversation away from an empty promise as he tipped his bowl up to show her its vacancy.

"More?" Rose gaped. "Matthias, I just gave you more. Great Seasons, do you ever stop eating?"

"I'm hungry," he shrugged and rubbed his shoulders. After Ratherwood had seen Marcey was taken care of, the returning traveller had met up with Matthias and Lis in the hidden glen; putting the young mouse through a spar. Typically, the two practiced with Lis' short swords, but this time Ratherwood had used his own battle axe and gone hard at Matthias. It had taken all of the young mouse's strength to counter the strikes from the weapon.

When Matthias had returned to the cottage and saw Marcey's injured paw, he had been furious. He couldn't believe that Linden would stoop so low as to taunt Marcey to her face. He could take the heckling, but Marcey… well, she took it just the way he always had. A fist to Linden's nose. It made Matthias smile as he imagined his little sister giving the snobbish mouse a paw to the snout and him crying like a babe over spilt pudding.

"There's a little bit left, Matthias, but I was saving it for Lily," Rose confessed. "There's cheese and sugared damsons in the cabinet if you're still hungry." Looking out the window at the growing darkness, Rose fluttered her paws nervously over the tabletop. "Oh, where is that maiden? She should have been back hours ago."

"Maybe she stayed for dinner at Uncle Brome and Aunt Kastern's," Matthias offered.

"Perhaps, but your uncle knows I like all of you indoors before dark," Rose muttered.

As if on cue, the door to the cottage creaked opened and Lily walked in from the twilight, wide eyed and in silence. She didn't look at any beast as she closed the door and hung her satchel up on the door peg in a trance-like state. She remained by the door, clutching something in her paw.

"Lily-Lil!" Marcey cried happily and jumped to her footpaws. "Lookit my paw!"

"Yes, Marcey, it's lovely," Lily said, not paying attention to anything besides her closed paw.

"Ah, Lil?" Matthias asked after throwing Rose a concerned look at Lily's silence. It was not like his sister to be speechless and stunned looking. She was too intelligent for that. Rose's eyes sparkled when she caught a glimpse of polished metal between Lily's fingers.

"Lily, is something the matter?" Rose said trying to hide the excitement in her voice.

"No," Lily whispered and unclasped her paw to reveal a small bronze pendent on a narrow silk neck ribbon. "I think I'm engaged."


	12. Chapter 11

**Thanks to MrDill and minkspit for reviewing, and to Blackish who has joined us for the tale!**

**Anyways, sorry for the late post. I've been travelling and working on my original stories, so that's taken up a lot of my time. Still, I'll have this one posted today and probably another chapter up soon. Promise.**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Lily slipped out the back door of the stream cottage and padded her way down the streambed in the dim morning light. A sleepless night left her body worn and tired, yet her mind never ceased with its questions. Was she engaged? Had he really asked her? Was the bronze pendent that now hung around her neck truly there?

Was this all a dream?

Nimbly, she jumped over the fallen branches and skipped around the larger rocks on her way to the hidden grove. There she could think and try to sort out what was happening in her life. Everything seemed to be moving so fast, as if she were an object spiralling down an abyss with no means of controlling her trajectory. Holding her satchel in one paw and her skirts in the other, Lily splashed through the streamlet that forked from the main water and wound its way around the grove of willow trees on the somewhat island. After ducking beneath the long finger branches, Lily smiled to see him already there.

"Bright and early as always, Lily?" Ratherwood greeted, never once turning from his place on a fallen log – a canvas satchel and extra fishing pole lying beside him. Reaching into a jar of bait, the fighter slipped it onto the hook before casting it off into the waters. He watched the line for a moment and then wedged the pole between the log and a branch, turning towards Lily and smiling at the sight of a bronze medallion hanging from the silk ribbon on her neck. "Ah," he mused, his gray eyes dancing, "So, there's roots to the rumour."

"Rumour?" she gawped and trod forward over the soft mosses. "What do you mean _rumour?"_

Ratherwood grinned. "That a little flower caught herself a cloud of soot."

"I, um…" Lily stuttered and instinctually put a paw up to cover the token, taking a deep breath to steady her anxiety. "You already heard?"

"Grumm wandered past and told Lis and I last night," Ratherwood answered. Shuffling over for her to sit, he picked up the extra pole and handed it to her. "You might as well prepare yourself, Lily – everybeast knows."

Lily settled down on the log, the offered pole clutched in her palms. "How? I've only told my family, and they haven't gone anywhere to tell anybeast."

"No, but Jonas has," Ratherwood reminded her with a shove of his shoulder. "Grumm said he came into the Lodge after the evening meal and told the council. He stood up in front of the whole lot of them and your uncle is even organizing an official announcement for you two this evening."

"Why would Jonas do that?"

"Because he's proud, Lily!" Ratherwood smirked. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he gave her a comforting squeeze. "Honestly, you should be worried if he _didn't_ tell anybeast."

"I know," Lily exhaled, letting her head rest on his strong shoulder. "I just didn't want it to be a big deal."

"Ah, little one, but it is a big deal," Ratherwood replied and twisted around to look her in the eyes. "A marriage is a great thing." He tipped his head back to look at her terse expression. "And yet you don't seem very excited about it all."

"I am," Lily firmed and plastered a look of absolute certainty on her face; and all it took was one raised eyebrow to send it all crumbling down with a sigh. "It's just taking a while to sink in, I think," she confessed. "I never thought he would ask me – I mean, we were … courting, but I always thought it took longer."

The fighter huffed a chuckle under his breath, shaking his head before giving her wink. "Pardon the pun, but perhaps Jonas is the type to strike while the iron is hot!"

"Maybe," Lily guffawed at the jest, smiling and exhaling the large weight from her shoulders.

"That's better," Ratherwood grinned, tapping her fishing pole to remind her it was there. "A bride should be smiling. Now, tell me – what does your family think about all this business?"

"Mama is very happy for me," Lily mumbled as she baited her hook. "Marcey is excited to get a new gown and Matty," she paused, "Matty is not exactly happy about the idea."

"He's just being overprotective. He'll settle into the notion, you'll see."

"He says that Jonas isn't good enough for me," Lily whispered. "He just doesn't like him."

"Matthias and Jonas are two different types of mice, Lily," Ratherwood said plainly. "They are both opposites. Matthias is adventurous and daring, where Jonas is steadfast and calculates his actions. It's only natural that they wouldn't see eye to eye, they can't understand each other's reasoning."

"I know."

"And you, Lily?" Ratherwood said after a few moments of silence while Lily cast her line out into the waters. "Apart from being caught off guard, are you happy about the engagement?"

"I…" Lily started and stopped. "I'm scared."

"Scared?" Ratherwood couldn't help but laugh at the statement. "Lily of Noonvale - of all the adventures you have been through and the dangers you have seen, _this_ scares you?"

"Yes!" Lily gasped, clutching her pole tightly between her paws. "My whole life is changing… again. This will be the fifth time everything is going to change for me and now I am wise enough to know that I have no control over how it will turn out!"

"You have every control on how this will turn out, Lily," Ratherwood corrected her. "This is your heart Jonas is asking for and it is up to you whether or not you give it to him.

"Do you love him, Lily?" he furthered, his tone plain. "Do you love Jonas?"

"I… think I do," Lily muttered, blushing and giving the pole a little jig. "He clearly cares for me and we get along well enough; Jonas does his smithing and I have my sketches and translations to keep me busy when he's not around. We're both quiet and –"

"You're not answering the question."

"It's a safe love," Lily replied honestly. "One no beast will end up hurt from and … if the cloak fits, wear it," she added with a little enthusiasm.

"That doesn't sound much like the little Lily I know," he said and pulled in his line to discard the pole on the stream bank. "Whatever happened to your idea of not being coerced in marriage unless you couldn't live without the beast?"

"Real life happened," she acknowledged. "I used to cling to that ideal – that there was one male for every maid and that was that; but now that I'm faced with the decision, I find it's just like Elisa said: This is Noonvale – we make our princes where we can."

The aging fighter nodded in half-hearted agreement. "A fine phrase to coin the word _settling," _he stressed. "What of your dreams for grand adventures, daring deeds and happily ever afters?"

"I have enough of those in my books," she relented, putting down her fishing pole as well and lifting her satchel onto her lap. Tapping the worn carrier, she added, "Besides, they never recount about the other side of those actions – how heroes can die, deeds can fail and ever afters don't always have to end happily."

"A heavy topic to be sure," the fighter chuckled, looking around the sun-speckled grove. "And amidst all this reality, you are willing to try your paw at it – the great thing we call love."

"I'm not looking for a great love, but a good love that isn't going to leave," Lily said, gaining confidence with her reasoning. "And maybe after a time when I see it's not going to go anywhere, I will let it grow into a great one – and that hope," she smiled, "is something I'm not willing to live without."

_And,_ she thought to herself, _Jonas may be the only male to ever ask me – the only chance I'll ever get at it._

"Well, I'm happy for you, Lily," Ratherwood affirmed and pat her knee with his paw, the dark brown colouring of his fur beginning to pepper silver with his age. "Congratulations. Now, who is going to meet with me and ponder philosophy while we fish, eh?"

"I'll still be around," Lily promised. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." Ratherwood leaned in closer, squinting at her new necklace. "So, what is that medallion supposed to be?"

"The North Star," Lily smiled and picked up the pendent to look at it. "For consistency."

* * *

All of Noonvale turned out that night at Council Lodge to celebrate the engagement of Lily and Jonas. Throughout the day, Lily could not go anywhere around the valley without a creature offering up congratulations and well wishes – Elisa and Odena practically bulled her over in their excitement and even Marty and Tulla surprised her with tight otter hug. With every smile and word of praise, Lily grew more confident in her decision and allowed to herself to get caught up in revelry; by midday she was discussing wedding colours and dances with her friends and now, just as the sun was setting the sky ablaze in vibrant oranges and pinks from its descent, Lily stood at the front of the lodge's dais with a reluctant Jonas as Brome announce their engagement to the rest of the village.

"You're wearing the necklace," Jonas whispered, leaning in to her while Brome continued his address to the gathering. Finding her paw in the folds of her dress skirts, he gave it a little squeeze. "When I gave it to you yesterday I wasn't sure how long it would take you to put it on. You seemed … taken aback."

Lily smiled at the crowd and nodded when her uncle gestured toward the two mice; waiting until his speech resumed forward once more before answering, "I was surprise is all, Jonas," she assured him, moulding her fingers around his in return, "And of course I'm wearing the necklace – you gave it to me to wear, silly."

"I know I did, but for you to already be wearing it –" he gave her a proud smile and let the sentence finish in his mind. "You've made me very happy, Lily."

"That's what wives do, don't we?" was her innocent jest which even furthered his grin. "Make our husbands happy?"

The cheers from the villagers drowned out his reply as Brome finished his address and turned to the couple, stretching out his paw to the smith.

"Welcome to the family, Jonas," the chieftain affirmed when Jonas dropped Lily's paw and came forward to receive his greeting. "May your marriage be a blissful one."

"Thank-you, Chief Brome, I believe it will." Jonas looked down to the side of the platform. "I believe we can get down now?"

"Yes," Brome smirked, chuckling when Jonas immediately descended the short steps onto the lodge floor. "The boards don't bite, Jonas."

"I know they don't, chief, but I prefer to not exhibit my future wife," Jonas responded in earnest. "She is a creature, not a precious jewel to be stared at." Once at the bottom, Jonas held out his paw for her, "Coming, Lily?"

"Yes, Jonas." In back of her mind, Lily could not help but feel affronted by Jonas' statement, but quickly dismissed the notion as she placed her paw in his and allowed him to help her off the platform.

_He was just asserting I wasn't an object, _she thought. _Besides, I don't really like being stared at._

"Well, I'm going to get you two some wine," Brome proclaimed, ignoring Jonas' comment himself and winking when Lily's eyes widened. "Special occasions call for special drinks. I know Lily's pick is elderberry, but what will it be for you, Jonas? Elderberry or damson?"

"I would like –"

"Ale," Matthias interrupted, weaving his way through the bodies to the trio. In his paws, the adolescent mouse clasped three drinks – a goblet of wine, beaker of cordial and flagon of ale. "Jonas and Jessop don't drink wine."

Lily gawped at his arrival, but her astonishment was centered more on another fact. "Really?" she pondered aloud and eyed her intended. "You don't drink wine?"

Jonas shrugged. "My father won't touch the stuff – says it reminds him … he just doesn't drink it. And well, I guess I've never acquired a taste for it." Raising an eyebrow at Matthias, the smith surmised, "I guess you did listen a little bit during the roofing escapade."

"Nope," Matthias grinned. "But I have a knack for observing beasts in crowds and through all the feasts and celebrations we've had in Noonvale since your arrival I've yet to see either of you near a bottle." Stifling his laughter at Jonas' expression, Matthias turned his attention to Brome. "Uh, sorry uncle. I didn't have enough paw space for more than three."

"Not a problem, Matty," Brome nodded, catching Rose's eye and taking the hint to give them some space. Backing away from the three, he added, "Now, if you would excuse me, I think I'll check in on some of the others."

Wordlessly, Matthias handed out the drinks and they stood together in a forced silence – the kind equivalent to claws scratching down a slate board. He watched Lily's guarded expression as she sipped her wine, her eyes ever evading his. Even Jonas seemed to be wary of him there, no doubt due to Lily mentioning his initial reaction to their engagement, and fidgeted with the shoulder swag of his tartan. Inhaling deeply, Matthias gulped down a mouthful of cordial like it was a glass of spirits and thrust his paw forward at the smith; Jonas started at the action and gave the younger mouse a surprised look.

"Congratulations, Jonas," Matthias offered. "On behalf of my mother, sister and I, I'd like to welcome you to our family." He gave a curt nod as Jonas took his paw, his eyes never leaving the smith's.

"Erm, thank-you, Matthias," Jonas drawled out, caught off guard at the new familiarity. "That's very kind of you considering your supposed apprehensions."

"You're taking my sister away from me," Matthias stated and released Jonas' paw. Looking at Lily, he gave her a little smile. "The one creature that has been there for me through thick and thin, the one who always made sure I was happy no matter what – even if it meant smuggling food in for me when I misbehaved and was sent to bed without my supper." The two shared a giggle, one of bygone carefreeness that was lost on the serious smithmouse. "I had her for sixteen seasons – it's time I stopped being selfish and give her the chance to show another beast how special she is."

Lily's stress breathed out in a single exhale. "Matty," she croaked, her voice hoarser than anticipated.

He cleared his own throat once more and darted his eyes around the room trying to avoid her emotion. "I just came over to say I'm happy for both of you, for your … engagement," he huffed. "I'll leave you two alone so you can make your rounds – it seems everybeast is anxious to greet you."

"Yes, so it would appear, but I think we'll just stay here," Jonas related taking Lily's paw when he saw Odena wave her over, holding her in place. "We really don't need to make a large deal about this – the engagement, I mean. The wedding, yes, and it will be soon enough."

"Oh, Jonas, that reminds me," Lily piped. "I wanted to talk to you about some things for the ceremony. I'm sure you have your traditions from the north, but I thought it would be perfect to have the ceremony in the orchards. The ripened fruit would smell delicious and –"

"Ripened fruit?" Jonas questioned. "Lily, there's no fruit ripe in the orchards yet besides some spring berries."

"There will be by fall."

"Oh, Lily!"

A herd of females descended upon them, singling out the maiden and whisking her away from the two males. Matthias just laughed and spun on his heel to return to his family while Jonas stood flabbergasted for a moment before waving off all intentions of pulling his bride-to-be from the clattering mêlée and retreating to his father who sat quietly off to the side at a table of council elders. The smith was greeted with nods and pawshakes – genteel matters of congratulations; Lily, however, was met with a flurry of questions and compliments.

"How did he propose?"

"Oh, Lily, that necklace is lovely!"

"I bet he sang a ballad confessing his undying love."

"Did he give you flowers?"

"I know- he pulled you into his paws and kissed you."

"Did he get down on one knee and…"

"No," Lily chuckled, ceasing their inquiries. "Jonas didn't do any of that."

"What did he do then?" a hogmaid named Hettie huffed and crossed her paws over her chest. "How was a plain smithmouse able to get a day-dreaming maid like you to say yes to his proposal?"

"Well, when I was walking past his forge on my way home, he called for me to come and see what he was making," Lily confessed. "When I came inside the hut, he handed me a little linen bag with my necklace inside. When I took it out, that's when he asked me to marry him."

"So he asked you to be his wife in a dirty, smoky old forge?" Hettie said, trying her best to hide her distain. "That's… romantic."

"It was private," Lily corrected her. "We're both quiet mice."

"It was perfect," Elisa asserted and stood beside Lily. "Not everybeast needs something grand."

"I want to have flowers and starlight," Adette added dreamily, attracting the attention of the group. "On the top of a mountain…"

"I'll have to remember all that to tell Matty," Lily teased and watched as the younger maid turned a deep red. Out of the corner of her eye, Lily watched Jonas and Jessop rise from their table and make their way across the hall towards her family.

"What season are you thinking of having the ceremony, Lily?" Tullgrew questioned, bringing the focus back to Lily once more. "Summer?"

"Early fall, I think," Lily informed them. "Before the harvest and –"

_"What?!"_

Matthias' exclamation shot to the rafters of the lodge and exploded downward, thundering in everybeasts' ears and shifting all their eyes in the direction of his voice as he stood beside Brome and Rose, each giving Jessop and Jonas bewildered looks. Even little Marcena's jaw had dropped.

"You want Lily to marry you in a, in a _week?"_ Matthias continued to babble in complete disregard for their public state. "Did you whack yourself in the head with an anvil?"

"It's a northern tradition," Jessop informed, ignoring Matthias while he addressed Rose and Brome. "A male gives the maid he intends to marry a token and once the maid openly displays his gift," he furthered, pointing to the Lily's necklace as she approached. "She is displaying her wish for the marriage to proceed without delay.

"It can take seasons, years sometimes, or a few days, but regardless of the time length – once the token is worn, they are to wed," he added when Rose and Brome shared a bewildered look. "I myself was engaged and married on the same day."

"Well, down here we do things a little differently," Brome eased into his rebuttal, holding up a paw when Ratherwood and Lis entered into the fray. "I'm sure you two have seen that during your stay here."

Still the mastersmith was unmoved. "I see no reason to delay. They are not children waiting on maturity."

"Jonas?" Lily implored as the discussion between the factions escalated. "What is your father talking about?"

"I told you I was happy you were already wearing my token," Jonas sighed, flopping his arms against his sides. "That we could get married quickly and have all this fuss behind us."

Lily scooped the medallion up, holding it flat in her paw. All her previous worries began to bubble to the surface again; threatening to swallow the pride she had begun to feel, all the excitement, all the anticipation.

"That's why you gave this to me to hold," Lily deduced in a whisper to herself. "That's why you didn't put it on me yourself." Looking back up at her fiancée, she questioned, "Why did you not tell me, Jonas?"

"I assumed you knew," was his honest reply. "With all the studies you have done, I assumed you had come across it."

Lily shook her head and exhaled her anxiety. _I have control over how this turns out, _she reminded herself.

"A week is fine," a timid voice sounded from her mouth and caused the banter stopped as they all looked at her. Gathering her courage, Lily stepped beside Jonas and took his paw. "We can be married in a week."

* * *

If a ship could limp, _Justwrek _was doing just that. The battered corsair galley bobbed up on the waves of the southern part of the Eastern Sea, groaning with exertion as it skimmed over the top and stomping down on its injured limb once more. The ship rowed with half oars- its oarslaves exhausted and working in shifts to keep the vessel moving forward. They were its only source of impulsion after all.

A searat stood upon the quarter deck watching the carpenters hack away at fallen foremast, making splints to repair the broken mainmast. His garb had be mutilated to accommodate the heavy bandages on his left arm and shoulder – the calling card left by the golden-sailed fleet – and he leaned heavily on the crutch at his right side; his broken footpaw extended slightly to give him a remote sense of balance. He had been lucky he didn't lose it all together, although the information did little to resolve his foul mood.

Around him the rest of the crew went about their work in silence, their eyes low and tails tucked close to their bodies. Out of three ships sent to Irgash, theirs was the only one sailing home to lick its wounds.

"Another two nights an' we should be close ta Wrenlid, m'lord," a ferret slurred from his place at the helm. The left side of his face was swollen and bruised – the effect of a pulley to the head when the mainmast fell. "We culd met wit Lord Clunring there an' they c'n help us ta Mortver."

Silence.

"M'lord?" the ferret pushed. "Lord Clunkin?"

"I don't need 'elp from me younger brother," the rat snapped and hopped a ways down the broken and blade-chipped railing. "Stay onna course fer Mortver."

"Yes, m'lord."

Clunkin leaned on the bannister and let his claws dig into the already injured pine, the resin and seawater squeezing out from their notches. Defeat. Defeat was a bitter enough tonic to swallow without seeking out the aid of a younger sibling. A younger sibling who some beasts were already whispering was better fighter, a stronger leader. His own father's decision to send Clunring to war on Wrenlid and dispatch himself on a _homage_ mission to Irgash was proof enough even the half-crazed shared the same opinion. Now, here he would return, injured and with the barebones of their family's flagship, he would confirm the mutterings. It would not matter the odds they were up against, it only mattered that they lost.

_But so did they,_ Clunkin affirmed and looked back to the cabin at the aft of the ship. There, leaning against the wall, a plank and ripped piece of banner sat; the polished mahogany wood contrasting with the blackened hue of his own vessel, challenging their surroundings as if they were a prisoner in chains glaring out at their captor. It was his one consolation in the defeat. He had sank it. It was now at the bottom of the sea and Southsward would at least feel a loss. Clunkin sneered at the silver writing, the syllables catching in his mind with hate.

_Waverider._

* * *

**Alright, anyone who read _The Journey Home_ might remember that ship and the family it belongs to. It was briefly mentioned in the tale, so let's see who remembers! ;)**


End file.
